6. Kieran

6

KIERAN

I stand at the edge of the in-between, dark energies swirling around me as I craft the nightmare realm. This will be no ordinary test for Aria. No, this will be a crucible, designed to break her or forge her into something magnificent.

As I weave the fabric of this dark reality, my mind drifts to my own past. Centuries ago, I too stood on the precipice of power, a young man with potential that terrified and excited those around me. The trials I endured... I push the memories aside. This isn't about me. Not entirely.

Yet I can't help but see echoes of myself in Aria. The same fire in her eyes, the same hunger for knowledge and power. Could it be more than coincidence? I've long suspected that her bloodline and mine are intertwined, separated by generations but linked by something deeper than mere genetics.

"My lord," a voice interrupts my musings. It's Shadowmere, one of my chief advisors. "I must again express concern about your personal involvement with the girl's training. It's... unprecedented."

I turn, fixing him with a cold stare that makes him flinch. "Your concerns are noted, Shadowmere. And dismissed. Aria is not just another student. Her potential could reshape the very foundations of our realm."

"But sire," he persists, though his voice wavers, "becoming too attached to a mortal, even a hexeblood, could be seen as a weakness by the court."

For a moment, I consider reminding him what happens to those who question me too boldly. But he's been a loyal servant, and his concerns, while misplaced, come from a place of genuine loyalty.

"I appreciate your candor," I say instead, my voice softening a fraction. "But trust that I know what I'm doing. Aria is a weapon I'm forging for the battles to come. Nothing more."

Even as I say the words, a part of me wonders if I'm trying to convince Shadowmere or myself.

Dismissing him with a wave, I put the finishing touches on the nightmare realm. It's a masterpiece of terror, if I do say so myself. Landscapes that shift like quicksand, shadows that hunger, and at its heart, a manifestation of Aria's deepest fears given form.

Satisfied with my work, I go to my subject. The teacher, a usually composed phantasm, flickers like a candle in a storm. "Lord Kieran," the teacher manages to stammer, "we are honored by your presence. How may we serve you?"

I smile, a gesture I know strikes fear into the hearts of most. "I'm here to conduct a special lesson," I announce, my eyes never leaving Aria. "A demonstration of advanced dreamweaving techniques."

The relief in the room is palpable as the students realize they're not the target of my attention. All except Aria, whose apprehension is tinged with... is that excitement?

"Aria," I say, extending my hand. "You'll be assisting me today."

She hesitates for just a moment before stepping forward, her chin held high. "I'm ready, Lord Kieran."

Without warning, I pull her into the nightmare realm I've created. The classroom disappears, replaced by a landscape of writhing shadows and impossible geometry. Aria staggers, momentarily disoriented.

"Welcome," I say, my voice echoing strangely in this realm, "to your pop quiz."

Aria's eyes widen as the realm around us transforms. The ground beneath her feet becomes a writhing mass of shadows, each movement revealing glimpses of grasping hands and pleading faces.

"Your task is simple," I continue, my form dispersing into a fine mist that envelops her. "Survive with your sanity intact... if you can."

I am everywhere and nowhere, watching, waiting to see how deep into the abyss she's willing to go. The first trial begins without warning.

I watch as she stands before a mirror, mind-wiped and perfectly unaware of the trial at hand. She goes about her morning routine, stopping to notice her reflection is wrong. It smiles at her with too many teeth, eyes bulging unnaturally. As she watches in horror, her reflection's jaw unhinges, and a torrent of spiders pours out.

Aria screams, stumbling backward, only to feel something crawling up her throat. She retches, and to her terror, spiders begin spilling from her own mouth, an endless stream of skittering legs and gleaming eyes.

Just as panic threatens to overwhelm her, the spiders vanish. But there's no relief, for now she's falling, plummeting through the darkness. She lands with a sickening splash in the middle of a vast, black swamp.

Her second worst fear.

Deep, dark water.

She gasps, surely immediately regretting it as the putrid air fills her lungs. The "water" around her is lightless, more like tar than liquid, and seems to pull at her, trying to drag her down. She can see that the surface stretches endlessly in all directions. There is no shore, no salvation – only an infinite expanse of black, bubbling ooze.

She tries to swim, screaming, pure delicious terror and panic emanating, but her movements are sluggish, as if the very medium around her is resisting her efforts. Each stroke sends ripples across the surface, disturbing things better left undisturbed.

The stench of rot and decay fills her nostrils as she struggles to keep her head above the viscous muck. Each movement only seems to drag her deeper. In the distance, pale lights flicker – will-o'-the-wisps promising salvation, but leading only to deeper waters.

"Help!" she cries out, her voice swallowed by the oppressive darkness. "Please, someone help me!"

But no help comes. Instead, cold, clammy hands grasp at her legs, slowly pulling her down.

The black water rises to her chin, then her nose.

Just before it covers her completely, the scene shifts again…

… she finds herself in a twisted version of her childhood home. The walls pulse like living flesh, and family photos show grotesque, melted versions of her loved ones. From the kitchen, she hears her mother's voice.

"Aria, sweetie, come help me with dinner."

Hope and dread war within her as she approaches the kitchen. There stands her mother, back turned, humming softly.

"Mom?" Aria's voice quavers.

Her mother turns, and she recoils in horror. Where her face should be is tight flesh stretched among humanlike features, but she has no eyes. And too many teeth. Far too many teeth.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" the thing wearing her mother's body asks, its voice a horrifying parody of maternal concern. "Don't you want to give your mother a kiss?"

Aria runs, slamming the kitchen door behind her, only to find herself in an endless corridor lined with doors. Behind each one, she hears the voices of her loved ones, distorted and pleading.

"Aria, help us!"

"Why did you abandon us?"

"It hurts, Aria. It hurts so much."

Tears stream down her face as she runs, trying to block out the voices. But there's no escape. The corridor begins to narrow, the walls closing in, covered in pulsing, tumor-like growths that burst as she brushes past, releasing noxious fumes.

Just as the walls threaten to crush her entirely, she emerges into a vast chamber. In the center stands a figure that looks exactly like her, but wrong in subtle, unsettling ways. Its smile is too wide, its movements too fluid, as if its bones are liquid.

"Hello, me," it purrs, its voice an echo chamber of Aria's darkest thoughts. "Remember me? Shall we become one?"

The doppelganger's form ripples, and suddenly it's lunging at Aria, trying to merge with her. She fights, but it's like battling her own shadow. Everywhere she turns, it's there, whispering promises of power mixed with threats of oblivion.

As the struggle reaches its peak, Aria makes a choice that surprises even me. Instead of continuing to fight, she goes still. "I understand now," she says, her voice raw but steady. "You're everything I fear, everything I could become. And I accept you."

The doppelganger pauses, its form wavering. "You can't mean that," it hisses. "I'm your destruction."

Aria shakes her head. "No. You're my potential. My darkness and my strength. And I won't run from you anymore."

As Aria embraces her nightmarish reflection, a shockwave of power pulses through the chamber. Reality itself seems to fracture, shards of broken nightmares raining down around them.

When the maelstrom subsides, there is only one Aria standing there. But she is changed, her presence somehow more complete, more potent.

There's a new depth to her eyes, a hint of shadow that wasn't there before.

It's time to end this test. I manifest before her, curious to see how she'll react.

Will she lash out in fear and anger? Collapse from the strain of her ordeal?

She does neither. Instead, she meets my gaze steadily, the echoes of her nightmares still visible in the shadows under her eyes. Her voice is low, tinged with a newfound strength as she asks, "What's next?"

For a moment, I'm speechless. In all my centuries, I've never seen anyone emerge from this gauntlet of horrors so... transformed. Without thinking, I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You continue to surprise me, Aria," I say proudly.

It's a moment of genuine connection, free from the usual dynamics of power and fear that define our relationship. For a heartbeat, I see not just a student or a potential weapon, but a kindred spirit.

The realization is as exhilarating as it is terrifying.

I quickly recompose myself, pushing aside these... complications. "You've done well," I say, my voice returning to its usual authoritative tone. "But this is just the beginning. Give her a hand, class."

Suddenly, the class, who watched the entire thing through the teacher's scrying board, erupts in cheer.

Aria straightens, a fire burning in her eyes. She's pleased with herself.

"Class dismissed," I announce. "Aria, come with me. We have much to discuss."

As we leave the stunned classroom behind, I find myself in unfamiliar territory. For the first time in centuries, I'm uncertain about the path ahead. Aria was supposed to be a tool, a means to an end. But now...

I glance at her as we walk, noting the new strength in her stride, the subtle glow of power around her. She catches me looking and offers a small, wicked smile.