Ronan held the box in his hands, its strange weight grounding him to the earth beneath his feet. The mist was beginning to dissipate, though the chill still clung to his skin. Doomfang had not moved, still perched nearby, his amber eyes fixed on Ronan with a gaze that seemed to pierce through his very soul.
Do you feel it, Forsaken? the wyvern's voice echoed in his mind, a low, rumbling whisper. The power has awakened within you. You are no longer just a man; you are something more.
Ronan's fingers tightened around the box. He could feel the pulse of energy coming from within it, like a living thing beating in time with his own heart. His breath quickened, his body vibrating with the raw force that now surged through him. It was intoxicating, a heady mixture of fear and exhilaration.
He had been warned. Kaelen had spoken of the dangers of power, and yet this felt different. This was not just power—it was an essence, a living, breathing force that was a part of him now. There was no denying it. The bond with Doomfang had not only made him stronger; it had reshaped him in ways he couldn't yet understand.
He glanced at the wyvern, whose massive form seemed to grow larger in his vision, the dark scales glistening like obsidian. For the first time, Ronan truly felt the weight of their connection. It was no longer just a partnership—it was an amalgamation of two beings, bound together by something ancient and unbreakable.
You are mine, Forsaken. And I am yours, Doomfang's voice whispered, deep and resonant. Together, we will dominate.
Ronan shook his head, trying to dispel the wyvern's words, but they clung to him like shadows, impossible to ignore. He felt an overwhelming urge to drop the box, to throw it away, to stop the flow of power that had begun to seep into his very soul. But the words of the stranger echoed in his mind: Take it. Embrace your destiny.
With a deep breath, he exhaled slowly, his pulse racing. What choice do I have?
He didn't fully understand what had happened when he touched the box, but it was clear now that he could not undo it. The path he had set himself on was no longer one of his choosing. He had become a player in a game much larger than he could have ever imagined.
Ronan lifted the box to his chest and slowly opened it, the faintest of clicks sounding as the lock released. The lid creaked open, and inside was a stone—black as night, smooth, and polished, with strange markings etched into its surface. It radiated power, sending a shockwave through Ronan's body, making his heart race.
It is time, Doomfang said, his tone commanding. Let the power flow through you. Let it consume you.
The moment Ronan touched the stone, the world around him seemed to collapse into darkness. His vision blurred, and the ground beneath him felt like it was shifting. A strange force surged through him, invading every part of his being, tearing through his very essence. It was not pain, but something far worse—the sensation of being torn apart, reassembled, and reshaped.
His body trembled as the stone's power coursed through him, and for a moment, he felt like he was losing himself. His mind struggled to hold onto reality, but every thought was consumed by the pulsing energy that filled him.
And then, just as suddenly, the world returned.
Ronan gasped for breath, his lungs burning as if he had been submerged underwater. His vision cleared, and he found himself kneeling on the ground, his hands gripping the earth as though it were the only thing keeping him anchored.
But something had changed.
The air around him was different—charged, alive with an unnatural energy. He could feel the pulse of the land itself, the heartbeat of the world beneath his feet. The bond with Doomfang had deepened, intertwined with the power he had just unleashed.
Ronan rose to his feet, his body feeling different—stronger, more attuned to the world around him. His senses were heightened, his every movement fluid and precise. He could feel the presence of everything around him—the trees, the wind, the distant creatures moving through the forest. But it was the wyvern's presence that was the most overwhelming, filling every corner of his mind, pushing him to embrace the power that now flowed through him.
You are no longer just Ronan Blackthorn, Doomfang's voice whispered in his mind, low and approving. You are a force of nature now, Forsaken. Embrace it.
Ronan staggered slightly, the overwhelming sensation of power almost too much to bear. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the rhythmic pounding of blood in his veins. It was like being reborn, but with the weight of the world pressing down on him.
"Doomfang," he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling. "What have I become?"
You have become the tool of destiny, the wyvern replied, his voice resonating through Ronan's mind like a thunderclap. And you will wield that power as you see fit.
Ronan's mind raced, his thoughts a tangle of confusion and awe. The power was intoxicating, but it came with a cost—a cost he wasn't sure he was ready to pay. The darkness Kaelen had spoken of, the forces seeking to control him, they were no longer just threats on the horizon. They were real, and they were coming.
But what did that mean for him? He could feel the weight of his choice now, the responsibility of the power he had embraced. It was a path with no return, a road that led into the unknown.
The wind picked up, rustling the leaves and sending a chill through the air. Ronan's gaze turned toward the horizon, where the sun was beginning to rise, casting its first rays of light over the dark forest. The mist was lifting, and the world seemed to be awakening, much like he had.
This is just the beginning, Doomfang whispered, his voice low and ominous. You have embraced the darkness, Forsaken. And now, the world will be yours to conquer.
Ronan clenched his fists at his sides, feeling the surge of power that now coursed through his veins. The weight of the wyvern's presence was like a shadow over him, but instead of fear, it filled him with something else—something dangerous.
It was time to begin his journey. The path ahead was uncertain, but Ronan knew one thing for sure: there would be no turning back.