The silver feather pulsed against Lucien's chest as he stood in the ruins of the chapel, its gentle warmth the only comfort in a world that had become a wasteland of shadow. Three days had passed since the ritual, and the weight of his new existence pressed down upon him like a mountain of bones.
The creature perched on the altar had not moved, its crimson eyes fixed upon him with what might have been amusement. "You have been silent, Void Shepherd," it said, its voice like wind through graveyards. "Do you not wish to know the full scope of your new existence?"
Lucien's hand tightened around the feather. "I know enough. I choose who dies. The curse spreads."
"Ah, but you know so little." The creature's laughter was like breaking glass. "The first condition was merely the foundation. But there is more—so much more."
The air shimmered, and suddenly they were no longer alone. A figure materialised in the shadows—Brother Marcus, but changed. His face was gaunt, his eyes hollow, and when he smiled, it was with teeth that seemed too sharp for any human mouth.
"Hello, old friend," Marcus said, his voice carrying harmonics that made the chapel stones shudder. "I've been waiting for you."
Lucien stepped forward, hope flaring in his chest. "Marcus, if you're still in there—"
"Oh, I'm here," Marcus interrupted, his smile widening. "Every piece that matters. But I'm so much more now. I can see the web of connections that bind all living things. I can feel the pulse of fear in every human heart. And I can see exactly what you've become."
The creature spread its wings, casting a deeper shadow. "Behold the beauty of multiplication, Void Shepherd. Your friend is not merely possessed—he is transformed. The entity has found a more suitable vessel. One with knowledge of the old ways, understanding of divine power. A priest turned prophet of darkness."
"You can save him," the creature continued. "But salvation comes with a price. Are you prepared to learn the second condition of your binding?"
Lucien's heart hammered. "What do you want?"
"The hope destroyer's burden—perhaps the cruellest gift of all."
The chapel walls became transparent, revealing scenes across the countryside. Families huddled around fires, travellers on dark roads, and children sleeping peacefully. All were unaware of the shadow moving through their world.
"When you choose a soul for death," the creature explained, "you cannot simply point and watch them fall. You must go to them. You must speak with them. You must offer them hope."
Marcus laughed, a sound like breaking bells. "He means you must become their saviour first, dear friend. Make them believe they can be saved, that their troubles are ending, that their prayers have been answered. Give them the greatest joy they have ever known."
The creature's eyes blazed brighter. "And then, when their hope burns brightest, when they trust you completely, when they believe with all their hearts that they are safe, only then may you deliver them to their doom."
The words hit Lucien like physical blows. "No. I won't do it."
"You will," Marcus said, stepping closer. "Because it's the only way to save me. Each soul you claim through hope destroyed weakens the binding between the entity and its vessel. Enough hope destroyed, and the entity will be forced to release me."
"How many?" Lucien whispered.
"Thirteen," the creature said. "Thirteen souls brought to joy before being cast into despair. Thirteen lives were saved, only to be lost. Thirteen hopes kindled only to be extinguished."
Lucien stared at his friend, searching for any sign of the man he had known. "Marcus, please. There has to be another way."
Marcus tilted his head, studying him with hollow eyes. "There is no other way. And you know why? Because deep down, you want to do it. You want to be the hero, the saviour, the one who brings light to darkness. The condition feeds on that desire, corrupts it, makes it monstrous."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?" Marcus began to circle him. "Remember how it felt when you first saw her on that rain-soaked road? How your heart lifted when you thought you could save her? How righteous you felt, how noble? That feeling—that's what you'll give to thirteen innocent souls. And then you'll watch their faces as you take it all away."
The creature's wings rustled with satisfaction. "The beauty of the second condition is that it ensures you can never see yourself as anything but a monster. You cannot claim to be reluctant when you spend your time giving people their greatest joy. You cannot tell yourself you had no choice when you see their faces light up with hope."
"And the more you do it," Marcus added, his voice dropping to a whisper, "the easier it becomes. The first one will nearly destroy you. The second will be agony. By the seventh, you'll be numb. By the thirteenth..." He smiled that horrible smile. "By the thirteenth, you'll be wondering why you ever thought there was anything wrong with it."
Lucien's hand tightened around the silver feather until his knuckles went white. "What if I refuse?"
"Then I remain as I am," Marcus said. "The entity keeps its hold on me, uses my knowledge to corrupt others, spreads darkness faster than you ever could alone. Within a year, entire cities will fall."
"There's something else you should know," Marcus said, his voice now soft and familiar. For a moment, it was almost like talking to his old friend again. "The entity isn't just using me as a vessel. It's learning from me. Every prayer I ever said, every blessing I ever spoke—it's turning them inside out, using them as weapons."
"Marcus..."
"Yesterday, I blessed a child's fever away. However, the blessing was corrupted and twisted. The fever left, but it took the child's innocence with it. She'll never feel joy again, never know love, never experience anything but grey emptiness that will consume her from within." Tears—real tears—rolled down his cheeks. "And I felt pleased about it. Proud. Like I'd done something wonderful."
The creature's laughter echoed through the chapel. "You see? The longer he remains my vessel, the more damage he does. The more people he corrupts simply by existing."
Lucien closed his eyes, trying to shut out the voices, the choices, the impossible weight. In his mind, he could see those thirteen faces—people he didn't know yet, who would trust him, who would believe in him, who would thank him even as he led them to their doom.
"I can't," he whispered.
"You can," Marcus said, his voice gentle, understanding. "Because you love me. Because you've always tried to save everyone, and you can't bear the thought of losing someone else. Because thirteen strangers matter less to you than one friend."
"That's not who I am."
"It's exactly who you are," Marcus replied. "And that's why it will hurt so much. That's why it will break you, piece by piece, until there's nothing left of the man you used to be."
The creature spread its wings wider. "The choice is yours, Void Shepherd. Save your friend by destroying thirteen innocent souls, or condemn him to an eternity of corruption while the world burns."
Lucien opened his eyes, staring at the man who had been his friend, his confessor, his guide. Marcus stared back, and for a moment, his expression was entirely human—desperate, afraid, and filled with love that transcended the horror of what he had become.
"Please," Marcus whispered. "Don't let me become the thing that destroys everything we both once held sacred."
The silver feather grew warm against Lucien's chest, and for a moment, he thought he could hear Yuva's voice on the wind: Find a way to break the cycle.
But how could he break a cycle by feeding it? How could he stop the darkness by becoming its willing servant?
"Time grows short," the creature said. "The entity grows stronger with each passing hour. Soon, your friend will be lost forever, and the decision will be made for you."
Marcus stepped closer, his hollow eyes fixed on Lucien's face. "Thirteen lives," he said quietly. "Thirteen moments of cruelty. Thirteen betrayals of everything you once believed in. Such a small price for a friend's soul."
The chapel dissolved around them, leaving only darkness and the weight of an impossible choice. And in that darkness, Lucien heard the sound of his own heart breaking—not for the thirteen souls he would damn, but for the knowledge that he was already reaching for the first thread of hope he would give, and then destroy.
The Void Shepherd had his new orders. The Hope Destroyer had his sacred task.
And somewhere in the darkness, thirteen innocent souls went about their lives, unaware that salvation was coming to find them—and that it would be the most terrible thing they had ever encountered.
The silver feather pulsed once against his chest and then went cold.