Darkness swallowed Ronan whole.
One moment, he stood in the cavern surrounded by the hooded figures, their whispered voices clawing at his mind. The next, the world collapsed inward, folding into itself like a dying ember, dragging him into a void of pure black.
Ronan gasped as his senses stretched beyond what felt possible. The darkness wasn't just absence—it was alive. It slithered against his skin, seeped into his bones, and coiled around his mind, whispering secrets he couldn't quite understand. It was suffocating, yet thrilling, like standing on the edge of a bottomless chasm, knowing that a single step would send him plummeting into eternity.
A voice, deep and ancient, rumbled through the void.
You have crossed the threshold. Now you must prove your worth.
The air thickened, pressing down on Ronan like unseen hands, forcing him to his knees. He gritted his teeth, pushing back against the invisible force. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, each beat syncing with something else—something deeper, something old. It was like a second pulse, an echo of a presence that had been waiting for him.
Then the darkness stirred.
It moved, shifting like a vast ocean of ink. And from its depths, something crawled forth.
A beast.
It loomed before him, amorphous yet terrible, its shape constantly shifting between forms too massive and twisted for the mind to fully comprehend. Claws, fangs, wings, horns—all flickered in and out of existence, as if reality itself struggled to contain its presence. Its body was both flesh and shadow, rippling with an unnatural hunger that sent a cold shiver down Ronan's spine.
The creature's eyes—if they could be called that—were voids of pure nothingness, deeper than the abyss surrounding them. When it fixed its gaze upon him, Ronan felt his very essence unravel, as though he was being peeled apart layer by layer.
His breath hitched. He wanted to move, to flee, but his legs were locked in place, frozen by a force far greater than fear.
Then the voice came again.
This is what you sought, is it not? Power.
Ronan clenched his fists. No, he wanted to say. He hadn't sought this. He had never asked for this curse, this abyss clawing at his soul. But deep inside, he knew that was a lie.
You seek control. You seek strength. But power is not given—it is claimed. And you, Forsaken, must claim your right.
The beast lunged.
Ronan barely had time to react before its massive form surged forward, jaws parting in a deafening roar. He threw his arms up on instinct, but no impact came. Instead, the beast merged into him.
A raw, searing agony tore through his body. It was as if every bone, every vein, every fiber of his being was being rewritten, reshaped. He screamed as tendrils of black energy coiled around him, sinking into his skin, into his mind, into his very soul. The force of it sent him sprawling, his body convulsing against the unseen ground.
Memories—memories that were not his own—flashed through his mind in rapid succession. Battles fought in eras long past. Monsters summoned from the depths of the world, bound to masters who wielded them like living weapons. Beasts fusing with humans, their forms melding into something neither man nor creature, something more.
The images burned themselves into him, carving knowledge where none had existed before. He could feel it now—the truth of what it meant to be a Beastbinder. He was not merely a summoner. He was not merely a tamer of beasts.
He was meant to become them.
The moment the realization took hold, the pain vanished.
Ronan gasped, his lungs filling with air as though he had been drowning and had only just surfaced. The darkness peeled away, dissipating like mist in the morning sun. The abyss receded, its hold on him loosening—
And then, suddenly, he was back.
His knees hit the dirt with a dull thud, his body shaking as the real world snapped into place around him. The cool night air filled his lungs, sharp and crisp, so different from the suffocating void he had just left behind.
Doomfang stood before him, watching.
The wyvern's golden eyes burned with something Ronan had never seen before—approval.
You faced it, Doomfang rumbled, his voice a low, satisfied growl. And you live. That is more than most can say.
Ronan wiped the sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand. His heart still pounded, his muscles ached, but deep inside, something had changed. He could feel it humming beneath his skin, pulsing with each beat of his heart. The power was no longer separate from him. It was inside him.
"What…" He swallowed, his throat raw. "What did I just experience?"
Doomfang tilted his head. Your initiation.
The wyvern's wings shifted, rustling against the night air. You are closer now. But this is only the beginning.
Ronan exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself. He had entered the void. He had seen the beast. And now, he carried something of it with him.
He didn't know what the cost would be.
But he knew there was no turning back.