Chapter 12

Morning began quietly in Glelrun. The city woke slowly, but inside the Temple’s great hall there was already movement. Aryn stood beside a tall window, her silhouette washed in light, the symbols etched into the glass glowing faintly around her. The echo of Vyth’s steps filled the chamber as he arrived.

Aryn looked him over briefly, then spoke.

"Vyth. There is something you need to investigate." Her voice was calm, yet carried the familiar weight that never allowed her words to sound light. "From a distant, dense forest we have received signs of unusual magical disturbances. We do not know what is causing them, but the traces are increasing."

Vyth stepped closer, his expression darkening. "Should I send people?"

Aryn slowly shook her head.

"No. You need to go alone this time. I do not want to create unnecessary attention, and... to be honest, this task does not seem dangerous. It is more of a short investigation. Go, see what is happening there, and return with your report."

A brief silence settled between them, then Aryn added in a quieter tone.

"Not all great battles bring change. Sometimes the smallest signs hold the most important answers."

Vyth nodded. The assignment sounded simple, almost ordinary. But deep in his heart he knew that nothing happened without a reason.

Vyth set out at dawn. Behind the city, the silence of the plains followed him, and along the paths only the wind played through the grass. The first stretch of the journey was uneventful. He passed a few shepherds who gave him a brief nod before hurrying on, as if they did not want to disturb his silence. The landscape changed slowly, the hills giving way to thicker lines of trees until he reached the entrance of a deep, dark forest.

As he stepped inside, the air changed. Thick branches intertwined above him, and sunlight barely reached through them. The trees stood motionless, as if the wind did not exist for them. There was no birdsong, no rustle of small creatures. The silence was too perfect, too complete, as if it were held in place not by nature but by some foreign will.

Vyth’s footsteps landed carefully on the soft layer of fallen leaves. A feeling began to grow in his chest, something he could not explain. It felt as if he was being watched. He saw nothing, yet his gaze kept returning to the spaces between the trees, searching for shadows that might be hiding between the trunks.

As he moved deeper, the light shifted into a pale dimness even though it was still daytime, as if the forest walls filtered the sun. The surroundings grew darker with every step, and the pressure in his chest increased.

Something was there. Something unseen, yet persistently watching.

From the darkness of the forest he suddenly stepped into a clearing. The trees opened around him, and in the center sat a hooded figure, completely still as if lost in meditation. The air around him seemed thicker, and the silence did not feel natural. It felt as if it spread outward from his presence.

Vyth stopped at the edge of the clearing by instinct. For a moment he felt he should simply watch, as if the vision might vanish, but the figure slowly lifted his head and spoke.

"It is not often that a stranger comes this deep into the forest." His voice was calm and smooth, yet there was something in it that made the air feel even heavier. "What are you looking for here?"

Vyth hesitated for a moment. He sensed no direct threat, but there was something unnatural in the situation. He decided not to show weakness.

"We detected strange magical disturbances coming from here. I came to investigate."

The hooded figure nodded, as if the answer was perfectly natural. His hands rested quietly in his lap, and his posture did not lose its calm for a single moment.

"Interesting. Tell me, Vyth... do you believe an enemy hides behind every disturbance?"

Vyth’s eyes narrowed. It did not surprise him that the man knew his name, yet the realization still struck him. He thought about his answer for a moment, then spoke in a deliberately steady voice.

"Until we know what is causing it, every possibility stands. I am here to find the truth."

The hooded figure smiled slowly, though his face was barely visible beneath the shadow.

"The truth shows a different face to everyone who seeks it. For some it brings comfort, for others destruction."

His words were not hostile, but heavy, as if he placed some kind of trial between them. Vyth felt that despite the calm, a tense line stretched across the clearing.

The man did not move and did not reveal who he really was. His calm presence was more unsettling than reassuring. And Vyth knew that this encounter would be more than a simple question.

Vyth slowly stepped closer to the figure sitting in the center of the clearing. The man’s hood cast a deep shadow over his face, but his calm presence felt more deliberate than hostile.

"Interesting that you came alone." the figure said. "Journeys like this always reveal how much you trust yourself."

"This is my task." Vyth answered firmly. "This is not the first time I have traveled alone. I was entrusted with finding out what is happening here."

The hooded man nodded slowly, as if he truly understood the answer. Meanwhile, at the edge of the clearing, the leaves on the trees shifted in barely noticeable motions, even though no wind was blowing. The movement was not natural. It followed a slow, pulsing rhythm, as if some invisible force was drawing them toward a common center.

"And tell me, Vyth." the man continued in a calm voice. "The power you were given, do you see it as a blessing or a burden?"

Vyth tensed at the question. He suddenly felt the weight of the armor more keenly, as if the words themselves pressed down on him. He did not notice that the air around him was slowly thickening, a faint vibration running through the ground as the man quietly gathered the energy of the surroundings.

"I think... it is both." he answered at last. "But I did not decide for it to be this way. All I can do is carry it."

The man nodded with a soft, almost satisfied breath. "An honest answer. Such honesty is rare."

As he spoke, the shadows of the trees seemed to weave tighter around them. But Vyth’s focus was entirely on the weight of the words. He did not think for a moment that what he felt was not only the silence of the forest.

Vyth was about to answer when something changed in the hooded figure’s movements. The slow, calm gestures shifted into tense, unnatural motions. His voice deepened, as if it no longer belonged to a man but to something else, something pulsing with dark power behind it.

"Enough with the act." the voice said, quiet yet suffocatingly strong.

The figure slowly rose, and from beneath the hood two glowing eyes appeared. There was no anger in them, no rage, only a merciless and overwhelming presence. The air grew heavy at once.

The man spread his arms.

"I am Argath."

The name swept across the clearing like a command. In the next moment everything went dark. The outlines of the trees blurred, the air thickened into shadows, and the whole world seemed to collapse into a single black vortex. The ground trembled under Vyth’s feet, and the silence shattered as deep, echoing screams rose around him.

Demonic forces burst out of the nothingness. They were not physical beings, but swirling shadows, wild energies rushing at him with feral hunger. Each shadow struck like a blow, as if they wanted to tear his soul apart piece by piece.

Vyth pulled his sword instinctively. But the blade’s light was swallowed by the darkness. Every strike passed through the shadows, every cut was meaningless. Whenever they touched him, a freezing pain shot through his body.

He felt something foreign pushing into him. The shadows left no physical wounds. They marked him from within, deep in his spirit. The cold spread from his chest into his arms and across his face, as if black threads were weaving themselves through him.

Vyth’s heart pounded and every muscle tensed. He tried to resist, but the demonic forces did not attack openly. They strangled him slowly as the dark energy coiled tighter around him. Each breath grew heavier.

And Argath, standing in the center of the clearing, did not move. He did not attack, he did not rush forward. He only watched, calm and certain, as if he knew the curse had already begun its work.

Vyth did not give up. Gripping his sword, he struggled to stay on his feet, but he felt the truth in every moment. The demonic force was not trying to break his body... It was trying to break his soul.

Vyth struggled for breath, but the demonic forces did not release him. They pushed deeper into his spirit, and at the edge of the clearing the trees seemed to bend under the weight of the darkness. The world around him twisted into a single blurred swirl.

Argath slowly pulled his arm back and looked at Vyth calmly. There was no anger in his eyes, no hatred, only a cold certainty.

"There is no need for me anymore." he said quietly, as if speaking only to himself. "The curse will do the rest."

In the next moment his form dissolved into shadow, and the clearing fell silent again. Only Vyth remained, collapsed to his knees, trapped in the grip of the demonic force.

The curse pressed down on him with full strength. He felt something trying to reshape him completely, as if the deepest part of his soul was being torn apart. His vision darkened, his heart pounded wildly, and he felt he was seconds away from being swallowed forever by the darkness.

Then, at the edge of despair, another force flared within him. A golden light, not from the outside but rising from within, breaking out from his spirit. The divine power bound to the golden armor ignited at once and surged through him. The dark energies recoiled, hissing and twisting as they retreated from the light.

But the light was not strong enough to cleanse everything. The curse had sunk deep inside and left its mark. Vyth lifted his head with ragged breaths, his body slowly settling, but he knew something had changed.

When his fingers touched his face, he felt the heat. The right side of his face was no longer the same. His skin had turned red like glowing ember. His right eye burned with a deep crimson glow, as if something inside scorched it. His right ear had lengthened into a sharp demonic shape, and his black hair had turned completely white.

The clearing was silent, filled only with Vyth’s harsh breaths. A faint trace of light still flickered inside him, but he knew the curse had not fully faded.

Vyth stayed on his knees for several minutes before he could stand. Every breath burned in his lungs, and with every movement he felt something foreign pulsing inside him. The right side of his face felt as if it had been in flames, a hot and tearing pain throbbing with every heartbeat. His right eye glowed red from time to time, like a burning ember he could not extinguish.

He tried to move, first slowly, then with quicker steps until he finally began to run. The branches of the dense forest scraped against his armor, but he did not care. He only wanted to reach the city. Something familiar, something human.

As he drew closer to Glelrun, the pain raging in his body became harder to bear. Sometimes he had to stop, pressing his palm to the ground so he would not collapse.

But he did not give in. He clenched his fist and forced himself back to his feet again and again.

When the city walls came into view in the distance, Vyth slowed. He did not want anyone to see him like this. The shine of his armor would give him away, so he put on his cloak and pulled the hood low over his head, letting the shadow hide half of his face. As he approached the gates he did not look at anyone. The guards who passed him saw only a tired Guardian returning from another mission.

Entering the city, the pain still pulsed inside him, but something had changed. The burning, overwhelming agony slowly dulled, as if his body had begun to adapt to the darkness. He still felt the curse in him. Deep, quiet, persistent, but it no longer crushed him the way it had before.

His steps slowed. He no longer fought every moment against fainting. His eye still glowed red at times, but the throbbing eased. His body and his spirit seemed to learn how to fight back against it.

Vyth stopped for a moment in an empty street where no one walked. He took a deep breath and heard his own heartbeat. The darkness was still inside him. He felt it trying, pushing, wanting to grow. He knew he had not defeated it, but he also knew he would not allow it to defeat him.

The room was dim. His armor rested on a chair, and Vyth leaned over the table with a small metal mirror in his hand. In the unsteady light he finally gathered enough courage to look.

For the first moment he did not recognize himself. His eye burned with a deep red glow, his ear had lengthened into a sharp shape that revealed something foreign had become part of him. His hair, once black, had turned completely white.

Vyth stepped back as if by instinct. The mirror slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor. He could not bring himself to look at the reflection again. Not because of the pain of what he saw, but because he recognized the mark of the darkness he had spent his life trying to protect others from.

His hand shook as he reached into the pile of clothes, searching for something. He found a piece of dark leather, then an old piece of armor. He worked in silence, filing and bending the metal until a mask took shape in his hands, one that covered half his face. The right side was completely hidden, only his left eye remained visible.

When he put it on and bent down over the broken shards of the mirror, he saw his own gaze again. For the first time it did not show fear, but a kind of distance.

He did not want anyone to see the distortion. He did not want people to fear him the way they once feared Kierg.

The mask was cold against his skin, yet strangely calming. It felt as if it separated him from the part he could no longer accept. He was no longer the same as before.

The Temple was quiet when Vyth returned. He pulled the hood low over his head so no one would see his face even in the dim light. The guards nodded silently. They recognized him and asked nothing.

Aryn waited in the inner hall. Light passed through the colored glass windows and fell softly across the stone. The High Priest stood in a warm, golden glow. When Vyth stepped closer, Aryn lifted her gaze and watched him in silence for a moment.

"I did not expect you to return this soon." she said. "What happened out there?"

Vyth stepped closer but did not lift his head. His voice sounded rough under the hood.

"Someone was waiting for me in the forest. He did not show himself at first, but then it became clear it was him. Argath."

Aryn’s eyes narrowed, but she did not interrupt. She only watched him.

"He did not attack me right away." Vyth continued. "He talked. He watched. Then everything went dark, and something happened. A curse. My body would not obey me, as if someone else was trying to take control. I felt myself slipping, but..." he paused to take a breath. "I managed to regain control. But it left a mark on me."

He slowly raised his hand and pulled back the hood. Under it, the half mask gleamed with a sharp metallic shine in the light. Silence settled between them before Vyth spoke again.

"I did not want anyone to see me like this. But you need to know what happened."

He removed the mask.

Aryn’s expression tightened when she saw him. The sight was both inhuman and painful.

Aryn stepped closer and lifted her hand toward Vyth’s face, but she did not touch him. The air trembled between them.

"This..." she whispered. "This is not a simple curse. It is something deeper, something bound to your soul."

"Can you remove it?" Vyth asked quietly, even though he knew the answer would not be what he wanted to hear.

Aryn closed her eyes. She focused for a moment, and faint golden light gathered around her hand, but when her fingers touched Vyth’s skin, the light vanished at once.

"No." she said finally, her voice soft and regretful. "It is too deep. The demonic energy has fused into you. What you see now is already part of you."

Vyth turned his head away and slowly put the mask back on. The metal was cold, but at least it hid what he did not want to show.

Aryn watched him for a while, then spoke quietly.

"You need to rest. This is not the time to fight it. You need to understand it first. Your body is struggling, but your will is still stronger. Go. Stay hidden for now."

Vyth nodded, then left the hall in silence.

In the past days, Vyth had grown increasingly restless. Inside the Temple walls he no longer found any peace, so he often walked through the streets of the city, hoping the movement, the air, or the noise of people would distract him. But the voices did not fade.

At first they came as faint whispers. Barely audible fragments in his mind that he thought were only the result of exhaustion. Then they became clearer, as if someone was speaking directly into his ear.

"You are weak..."

"Look how they fear you..."

Vyth tried each time to silence them, taking deep breaths and pushing the noise aside. But the more he tried, the louder they grew. The throbbing pain in his head came with the whispers, and his right eye often flared up, glowing red as if answering the demonic words.

One afternoon, when he was near the marketplace, the voices suddenly sharpened.

"Look at him..."

"He fears you. Everyone fears you."

Vyth stopped. His gaze fell on a man carrying a basket nearby. The stranger looked at him for only a moment. There was nothing unusual about him, yet that brief, startled glance was enough. The whispering surged at once.

"He mocks you... see it? He despises you!"

Something snapped inside him. His breathing quickened, his hand clenched into a fist, and before he understood what he was doing, he stepped toward the man. His movements were sudden and forceful, as if something inside him was pulling the strings. He grabbed the man’s clothes, pushed him against the wall, and stared into his eyes.

"What are you looking at?" he growled. His voice was deep and foreign, like it did not come from his own throat.

The man tried to move back, but Vyth’s grip did not loosen. His face was hidden in shadow, only the red glow of his eye visible under the mask. People nearby froze, but no one dared to intervene.

Vyth’s heart pounded, and the whispers in his head had turned into shouts.

"Break everything! Protect yourself! Do not let him look at you!"

The man’s hand closed around Vyth’s wrist, but it made no difference. Vyth’s arm tensed, as if for a moment he might push him harder, but his body shook under the restrained anger. Small vibrations ran across the ground, and the air seemed to tremble around them.

For a moment Vyth’s vision cleared, and he saw the fear in the stranger’s face. Realizing that he was the cause of it hit him hard. His hand shook, and the whispers tried to pull him back, but somewhere deep inside he still had enough clarity to know he had to stop.

The man gasped for air, and Vyth stood tense before him, still on the edge of losing control, no longer fully himself and no longer fully in command of the demonic force raging inside him.

Before the next movement could happen, a firm voice sounded behind him."Vyth!"

The voice was familiar, clear and sharp. Oryn.

Vyth turned, but the demonic pulse had not released him. His eye glowed red, and his breathing was uneven. Oryn approached with steady steps, firm but not hostile.

"Let him go." he said calmly. "He is not your enemy."

The man trapped by Vyth tried to pull free in panic before Oryn moved quickly. With one swift motion he pushed Vyth’s hand aside, grabbed his arm, and pinned him against the wall.

"Enough!" Oryn’s voice was commanding now, but not aggressive. "Look at me!"

Vyth struggled, but their eyes met. The red glow still burned, and the anger churned inside him. Oryn did not release him. He grabbed both of Vyth’s shoulders and forced him back against the wall with strength.

"This is not you." he said quietly. "Do not let it take control."

Vyth tried to breathe, gasping for air. His body shook, and his eye flickered as if his mind shifted between darkness and clarity."I cannot... stop it." he forced out.

Oryn did not let go."Yes, you can. Look at me. Focus on me, not the voices."

The words seemed to break through the barrier of whispers. The demonic noise slowly faded, then fell silent. Vyth’s gaze cleared, and the red light dimmed.

Only then did Oryn release him, though his hand stayed on his shoulder."Good. It is over. Breathe."

Vyth leaned against the wall. His hand trembled, and he could still feel the demonic pulse in his chest, but the voices were gone. For the first time, the silence did not frighten him. It felt freeing."I will not judge you." Oryn said quietly. "What I saw was not you. But if you try to hold it back alone, you could lose everything. Let me help you."

Vyth could only nod. His eyes showed shame, pain, and something that had been missing for a long time. The realization that he was not completely alone.

Oryn stepped back and signaled to the frightened citizen to leave. The man nodded and hurried down the street, leaving them in the quiet.

Vyth lowered his head, his voice barely above a whisper."Thank you..."

Oryn gave a faint smile.

Vyth looked away, and a small, bittersweet smile touched the corner of his mouth.

The sun was already setting when Oryn and Vyth returned to the Temple. The streets had emptied, and the calm of evening settled over the city. The Temple courtyard was silent, broken only by the soft sound of the fountain.

Vyth sat down at the edge of the stone bench. His body was still weak, and the dark, cold force Argath had placed inside him lingered in his chest.

"I do not know how... how to silence this." he said quietly as he looked at his hand. His fingers trembled slightly.

Oryn did not answer right away. He sat beside him and remained silent for a moment.

"You do not have to silence it." he said eventually. "Darkness cannot be shut out. But you can learn when to let it speak, and when not to."

Vyth looked to the side. His voice was rough but honest.

"And you know how to do that?"

"No." Oryn answered. "But we will learn together."

For a few minutes neither of them spoke. The silence between them was not heavy. It felt calm, like the first stillness after a storm. Aryn’s words still echoed in Vyth’s mind. "You do not need to fight it now, you need to understand it."

Oryn finally lifted his hand, showing the motion slowly.

"Try to breathe with me. You are not controlling your body. You are controlling the air. With every breath, pay attention to where that darkness starts to shake inside you. That is where you hold it."

Vyth closed his eyes and followed. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His heartbeat was still unsteady, but Oryn’s voice guided him without stopping. They tried again and again until his breathing became even.

The whispers grew quiet. The pain in his chest was still there, but it no longer felt threatening. Oryn showed him movements, old forms that Amarah had once taught him. Slow, continuous motions built on discipline rather than combat.

By the time night settled fully over the Temple courtyard, Vyth’s breathing was steady. His eye no longer glowed, his face had relaxed, and the anger that had taken hold of him earlier was now only a distant echo.

Oryn spoke then, his voice low and simple.

"It will not fade in a day. But if you fight it every day, you will learn not to fear it."

Vyth nodded slowly, his gaze lifting toward the distant stars.

The following days were quiet. Every morning, Vyth sat in the same place in the Temple courtyard, beside the fountain where Oryn had first taught him the breathing exercises. The first rays of sunlight had barely touched the stone benches, yet he was already there, motionless with his eyes closed.

The demonic voices had not disappeared completely. Sometimes they whispered faintly in his mind, like distant words carried by the wind.

"You know you are stronger with me..."

"If you wanted to, you could do it..."

But they no longer controlled him. They were not commands, only temptations. Distant, fading echoes he did not have to listen to. When the voices spoke, Vyth took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and searched for silence within himself. Oryn’s words came to mind. "You do not need to silence it. You need to learn when you let it speak."

Sometimes he did not hear them for days. Other times they returned in a moment of fatigue, but they no longer found an opening in him. The anger that had once twisted every thought no longer ruled him. It remained only as a deep, suppressed ember.

One evening he stood in the training yard with his sword in hand. His movements were precise, steady, and controlled. The demonic energy vibrated in his blood, but it no longer pushed him to destroy. It gave him strength. In every strike and every motion there was a duality. The light he represented and the darkness he was forced to carry.

When he finished, he lowered his sword and allowed himself a brief smile. His red eye glowed faintly in the dark, yet it no longer felt threatening.

For the first time, it did not feel like a curse. He had not freed himself from it, but he no longer wanted to. Now he was the one in control.

In the following weeks, Glelrun slowly changed.

The city that had once reacted to Vyth with whispers and fear now looked at him differently. At first people watched him only from a distance, from the edge of the Temple courtyard, from the training grounds, or from the streets when he walked past. The mask was still on his face, but his movements were no longer threatening. Something had shifted in him, something even those could sense who once avoided him in fear.

The children who used to run from him sometimes stopped nearby now when he crossed the square.

Oryn was at his side almost every day, as a friend. He helped with the training and stood with him as the people of the city slowly returned to his presence. When the demonic power flared inside him again, Oryn was the one who pulled him back to reality with a single word or a single look.

Aryn saw the change as well. She did not speak or interfere. She only watched from the Temple window as Vyth talked with people more often and no longer avoided their eyes.

People still whispered about him, but not as about a monster.

In many of their eyes, for the first time in a long while, there was respect rather than fear.

And Vyth, even knowing the demonic part of him would always remain as a shadow, felt for the first time that he might still have a place in this city.

The sun slowly descended over Glelrun, and the golden light cast long shadows across the stones of the Temple courtyard. The air was calm, and the sounds of the city drifted in from a distance. Oryn had already left. Only Vyth remained.

The mask rested in his hand. The metal was cold and smooth, and its weight reminded him of everything he had wanted to hide from the world. He had worn it for weeks because he feared what people would see if he removed it. But he no longer feared it.

His reflection stared back at him in the water of the fountain. The red and the white, the light and the shadow. Two sides that had tried to silence each other until now. For the first time, he saw them together. As a whole.

He slowly lifted his hand and touched the mask with his fingers. He took a deep breath, then let it fall. The metal hit the stone with a quiet sound.

The right side of his face was still tinted by a red glow, and his eye shone faintly, but not in a threatening way. For the first time, he did not see it as a deformity. He saw it for what it truly was. Proof that he had survived, that he had returned, and that he was able to control what he once feared.

"I am no longer my own enemy." he whispered as he looked at his reflection.

His voice faded in the Temple courtyard, but something moved in his chest. The calm was not perfect, but it was real.

Vyth looked toward the distant towers of the city where people no longer feared him.

He no longer hid what lived within him.

The last light of the sun reflected on his face as he stepped through the Temple gate.