---
The echoes of the dying priest's final breath still hung in the air. Elara stood motionless, the taste of power thick on her tongue, the darkness inside her humming with satisfaction. The transformation was complete. She was no longer merely a survivor—she was something greater, something dangerous.
Lucian's presence lingered beside her, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips. He watched her, his crimson eyes gleaming with approval. "You didn't hesitate this time."
Elara inhaled deeply, rolling her shoulders as if shedding the weight of her former self. "Hesitation is for the weak."
Lucian's chuckle was low and satisfied. "Good. You're beginning to understand."
She turned to face him fully, her gaze unwavering. "What now?"
Lucian stepped closer, his fingers brushing over the sleeve of her tattered cloak. The touch was brief but sent an electric pulse through her. "Now, you embrace what you've become."
His words were an invitation, a command, and a promise all at once. The hunger in her veins pulsed stronger, urging her forward into the abyss she had already stepped into.
---
The ruins of the sanctuary had fallen silent. The only witnesses to the bloodshed were the corpses littering the stone floor. The world outside remained unaware of what had transpired here, but soon, they would know. Soon, they would understand the power she wielded.
Elara felt the shadows curling around her ankles, shifting like living entities. "Tell me the truth," she said, her voice steady. "Why did you choose me?"
Lucian's smirk faded slightly, his gaze darkening with something unreadable. He lifted a hand, brushing his fingers along her jawline before tilting her chin upward. "Because you were always meant for this."
She scoffed. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you need."
His cryptic response irritated her, but she let it slide. There were more important matters at hand. She turned, stepping over the fallen bodies as she made her way toward the sanctuary doors. "If I am to embrace this power, I need more than whispers and riddles."
Lucian followed her, his boots clicking softly against the stone floor. "And what is it you desire, Elara?"
She paused, gripping the hilt of her dagger. The answer had been forming in the back of her mind since the moment she had taken the first life without hesitation. "I want control."
Lucian tilted his head slightly, studying her. "Control over what?"
She turned to him, her expression unreadable. "Everything."
A slow, pleased smile spread across his lips. "Then let's begin."
---
They traveled under the cover of darkness, moving through the desolate streets of the ruined city. The air was thick with the scent of ash and decay, remnants of a world that had already begun to crumble.
Lucian led her through twisted alleyways and abandoned corridors, where the shadows stretched unnaturally, whispering secrets only she could hear. They came to a halt before a crumbling cathedral, its once-majestic structure now worn down by time and war.
"Why here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lucian glanced at her before pushing open the heavy doors. "Because this is where it all begins."
Inside, the cathedral was bathed in eerie moonlight, illuminating the rows of broken pews and shattered stained-glass windows. At the far end of the grand hall stood a towering obsidian altar, its surface etched with markings that pulsed faintly with dark energy.
Elara stepped closer, drawn to it. "What is this place?"
Lucian walked beside her, his gaze fixed on the altar. "A sanctuary for those who came before us. Those who sought the power of the abyss."
She ran her fingers over the markings, feeling the raw energy beneath her fingertips. "And now?"
"Now," Lucian said, stepping behind her, his presence pressing close, "it is yours."
Elara turned to face him, her heart pounding. "Mine?"
Lucian nodded. "You seek control. Power is nothing without a throne to command it from."
She exhaled slowly, the weight of his words settling over her. "And what do you gain from this?"
His crimson eyes burned into hers. "You."
A shiver ran down her spine, but whether it was fear or something else entirely, she couldn't say. He had claimed her before, but this felt different. This was not ownership—it was devotion. Twisted, dark, and undeniable.
"I don't belong to anyone," she whispered, though the words felt hollow.
Lucian smirked, brushing his fingers along the side of her neck. "No," he murmured, "but you will reign beside me."
She should have recoiled, should have denied him, but she didn't. There was an inevitability to this, a force that neither of them could deny. She had been walking toward this moment since the night she first spilled blood.
The shadows in the cathedral pulsed, as if sensing the shift in power. Elara reached out, and the darkness answered her, swirling around her fingers like living ink. She clenched her fist, feeling the energy coil inside her like a beast ready to be unleashed.
Lucian watched her with something almost akin to reverence. "Your enemies will tremble before you."
She met his gaze, a slow smile curling her lips. "Then let's give them something to fear."
Lucian extended his hand. Elara hesitated for only a fraction of a second before placing her palm in his.
The cathedral trembled.
A surge of power erupted from the altar, swirling around them like a storm, whispering ancient incantations in a language lost to time. The markings on the obsidian stone glowed brighter, casting eerie shadows across the walls. The darkness embraced them both, binding their fates together in a way that neither could undo.
And as the power settled, as the whispers faded into silence, Elara knew one thing with absolute certainty.
She had crossed the final threshold.
And there was no going back.
---