Lyra's breath came in ragged gasps as she sprinted through the moonlit forest, her boots kicking up damp earth. The trees loomed like silent sentinels, their branches reaching for her like skeletal fingers. She didn't stop. She couldn't stop. The cursed power within her pulsed hungrily, a reminder that she was running out of time.
Behind her, the ground trembled. A distant roar shattered the night.
Gorrath.
The enforcer of Lord Malakar was close.
Lyra gritted her teeth and clutched the Soulstone against her chest. The gem burned against her skin, its eerie crimson glow pulsing in rhythm with her racing heartbeat. Inside it, a voice whispered.
Use me, child. You cannot outrun death.
She swallowed hard. Every time she used the Soulstone's power, she could feel it carving away a piece of her soul. And yet, it was the only thing standing between her and an unmarked grave.
A crashing sound to her left—Gorrath was plowing through the underbrush like an unstoppable force. He was close enough now that she could hear the scrape of his massive axe against his gauntlet. Close enough that she could feel his killing intent like a dagger pressed to her throat.
"You cannot run forever, little mage." His voice was a low growl, laced with amusement. "The moment you touch that stone, you're already mine."
Lyra spun on her heel, thrusting out her palm. For a brief moment, she hesitated. Then, she gave in.
Let me in.
The world exploded in red light.
Power surged through her veins, thick and molten, more intoxicating than any spell she had ever cast. Her feet barely touched the ground as the magic lifted her, shadowy tendrils writhing around her like living entities. Her fingers crackled with crimson lightning.
Gorrath's smirk faded. "So, you've finally decided to play."
He lunged. His axe came down in a silver arc, but Lyra moved faster. A single flick of her wrist sent a wave of force crashing into him, sending the giant man hurtling into a tree with a bone-rattling crack.
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then, laughter. Low. Mocking.
Gorrath pushed himself up, wiping blood from his lip. "Not bad. But do you really think you can master the Soulstone before it masters you?"
Lyra clenched her fists, suppressing the tremor in her fingers. The voice inside the stone was stronger now, pushing, prying.
More. Give me more.
Her vision blurred for a split second. When it cleared, she was standing over Gorrath, her hand outstretched, magic ready to burn him to ash.
She hadn't moved.
She staggered back, heart pounding. No. That wasn't me.
A deep chuckle filled her mind. Oh, but it was.
Gorrath's grin widened as he stood. "You're already losing yourself. Just like all the others."
Lyra's chest tightened. She couldn't afford to think about what that meant. Not now. She turned and ran, the Soulstone's whispers echoing in her skull.
You will need me again, child. And next time… The voice purred, dark and knowing. You won't hesitate.