8. More Control

The moment Viole's fingers touched the obsidian shard, the world around him seemed to warp and twist. A wave of cold, malevolent energy surged through his body, seeping into his bones like ice. His vision blurred, and for a moment, everything went dark.

Then, suddenly, he was somewhere else.

He stood in a vast, empty space—similar to the void he had seen before, but darker, heavier, with the oppressive weight of ancient power pressing down on him. The air here was thick with shadows, moving like living things, whispering just at the edge of his hearing. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat reverberating through the emptiness.

In the distance, a figure loomed, tall and cloaked in shadow. It was not human, but something far older, far more dangerous. Its form shifted and twisted, its face obscured by a swirling darkness, but its eyes—two glowing orbs of crimson—locked onto Viole with an intensity that made his blood run cold.

The figure spoke, its voice low and thunderous, like the grinding of stone. "You are not ready."

The words echoed through the void, shaking the very ground beneath Viole's feet. He could feel the weight of the figure's gaze pressing down on him, as if it was trying to crush him, to make him submit.

But Viole stood his ground. His muscles tensed, his breath shallow, but he didn't falter. He had come too far, faced too many challenges, to back down now.

"I'm not afraid of you," Viole said, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at the edges of his mind.

The figure's form shifted, and Viole could feel its amusement, a cold, mocking sensation that prickled at the back of his neck. "Fear has nothing to do with it, child. You are weak. Unworthy of the power you seek."

Viole's jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He wasn't going to let this thing break him. He had fought his whole life to prove his strength, to prove that he could control the power inside him. He wasn't going to let some ancient, faceless entity tell him otherwise.

"Try me," Viole growled, his voice low and dangerous.

The figure's eyes flashed, and for a brief moment, the shadows around it surged, swirling like a storm. Then, with a low, rumbling laugh, the figure began to fade, its form dissolving into the darkness.

"We shall see," it said, its voice echoing as it disappeared completely, leaving Viole alone in the void.

The world snapped back into focus, and Viole found himself standing once again at the base of the altar. His fingers were still resting on the obsidian shard, its surface cold and smooth beneath his touch. The oppressive weight in the room had lifted slightly, though the tension still lingered in the air like an unspoken threat.

He pulled his hand back slowly, his heart still racing from the encounter. He didn't know what that thing was—or what it wanted—but he could feel its presence lingering in the back of his mind, watching, waiting.

Seris and Toren had barely noticed his momentary lapse, both of them still focused on the shadows that continued to swirl around the chamber. The silent boy, however, was watching Viole intently, his gaze sharp and calculating.

"Are you okay?" Seris asked, her voice breaking through the thick tension.

Viole nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure if he meant it. "Yeah. I'm fine." His voice sounded hollow, even to him, but there was no time to dwell on it now.

The creatures were still coming, though their numbers were thinning. The energy from the shard had somehow bolstered him, and he could feel a renewed strength surging through his body. A small part of him—a part that wasn't entirely his own—revelled in the feeling. Aamon, ever ambitious, stirred within him, his regal voice whispering promises of more power, more control.

"This is just the beginning, Viole," Aamon purred. "Embrace it. Let me guide you."

But Viole pushed the voice down, forcing himself to focus on the present. He had to maintain control. The power of the shard was dangerous, intoxicating, and if he let it consume him, he knew he'd lose himself to it. And to Aamon.

"We need to end this," Viole said, his voice sharp and decisive. "There's something about that shard—it's the source. We need to destroy it."

Toren scoffed, glancing at the obsidian shard with a raised brow. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that? It doesn't look like it's going to go down easy."

Viole wasn't entirely sure, but he knew one thing: the shard was connected to the creatures, to the shadows that swirled around them. If they didn't deal with it, the trial wouldn't end. And neither would the danger.

Seris studied the shard for a moment, her sharp eyes narrowing. "He's right," she said finally. "That thing is radiating power. We need to shut it down, or we'll be trapped here."

Without hesitation, Viole stepped forward, his sword drawn, the faint glow of vampiric energy still pulsing along the blade. He approached the altar cautiously, his gaze fixed on the shard. The closer he got, the stronger the pull became—a deep, magnetic force that tugged at the edges of his mind.

He raised his sword, his muscles tensing as he prepared to strike.

But just as his blade was about to come down on the shard, the ground beneath his feet began to shake violently, and the air was filled with a deafening roar. The shadows in the chamber surged, swirling around the altar like a storm, and from within the darkness, something massive began to rise.

It was the same force that had been watching him, the same presence that had spoken to him in the void. It was no longer content to remain in the shadows. Now, it was coming for him.

The ground cracked beneath the altar, and the creature emerged—a towering, amorphous mass of shadow and darkness, its glowing eyes fixed on Viole with a cold, predatory hunger. The energy radiating from it was overwhelming, suffocating, and for a moment, Viole's legs almost buckled beneath the weight of it.

The others scrambled backward, their eyes wide with fear and shock.

"What the hell is that?" Toren growled, his voice filled with a mix of awe and terror.

Viole didn't answer. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mind racing as the creature loomed over him, its form shifting and twisting like smoke. It was the embodiment of everything he feared—an ancient force, a predator born from the abyss.

And it wanted him.

The creature's eyes glowed brighter, and Viole could feel its cold, insidious presence creeping into his mind. It was trying to take control, trying to make him submit. He could feel the personalities stirring in response, their voices rising in unison as they fought back against the intruding force.

Clark was the first to react, his voice hissing in Viole's mind like venom. "Don't let it win. It's weaker than it seems. Break it, Viole. Make it suffer."

Desmond, ever playful, chimed in with a manic giggle. "Oooooh, it's a big one! Let's tear it apart and see what's inside!"

But it was Aamon who cut through the noise, his voice cold and commanding. "This is your moment, Viole. Prove your strength. Show this creature who you really are. Or die."

Viole's grip tightened on his sword. The personalities were pushing him, urging him to act, to strike, to destroy. But he knew he couldn't do it alone. He needed their power. He needed them.

With a deep breath, Viole closed his eyes and reached inward, pulling on the strength of the personalities—just enough to harness their power, without losing himself in the process.

When he opened his eyes again, they gleamed with an unnatural light.

The creature lunged, its massive form bearing down on him, but Viole didn't flinch. He moved with the grace and speed of a vampire, dodging the creature's attack with ease. His sword gleamed as he struck, the blade slicing through the shadows with a flash of dark energy.

The creature screeched, its form unraveling as Viole's blade cut through it. But it wasn't enough. The creature reformed, its eyes burning brighter, its hunger more intense.

Viole grit his teeth, his muscles straining as he pushed harder, faster, his strikes coming in a flurry of motion. The creature writhed and twisted, its form flickering in and out of existence, but it wouldn't die. Not yet.

The ground shook again, and Viole stumbled, his sword slipping from his grasp. The creature seized the opportunity, lunging at him with a roar.

And then, everything went black.