Surrendered To The Lord Of Sin-Chapter 38: The cost of mercy II

Finally, the pressure vanished and it collapsed forward, coughing violently as its limbs shook beneath it. Smoke threaded weakly from its skin once more, though far less than before.

Vaeron watched with an unreadable expression. His eyes raked it, noticing how the loss of energy depleted its body in a matter of a few seconds.

Beneath its cloak, the creature’s frame shifted from lean to gaunt as faint sizzle broke the silence in the forest. Without moving, "Who sent you?"

The creature gasped, fighting to regain stability against the chaos, but it was weak. Utterly vulnerable and weak to breathe properly even.

Then those feeble eyes snapped towards Vaeron, failing woefully to glare at him. The veins on his face thickened now, pulsing beneath his skin in a sickening manner as his hands curled into the snow, claws biting into ice.

"Y-Yur..." It rasped painfully. "Y-Yur w-waystin yuh-" His voice broke before he could finish, as an invisible pressure closed around its chest, compressing just enough to make its breathing conscious, and laborious.

Vaeron waited, and seconds passed. Time moved horribly slow, torturously slow for the tortured one whose cries died in the cold wind, and echoed in the empty forest.

Then a minute passed, and finally it rasped, "STOP!"

Instead of depleting, the pressure increased. Bones creaked—not breaking, not yet, just enough to promise that they could, and it convulsed, shaking uncontrollably.

For a while, the drama unfolded until finally, silence returned in the forest. The creature wheezed bitterly, forcibly dragging its body against the snow as it shook disorderly.

"Let’s try that again," Vaeron’s voice was like ice against a freezing body, detached and lifeless as those eyes. "I believe I need not repeat myself,"

It groaned and trembled at once, failing to reach for whatever energy let of it to portal or sprint once more. The exhaustion in its tone proved how utterly depleted it was when it said, "W-We were... Mm," It groaned again, and its jaw tightened. "O-Ordered. That’s... all I can say,"

Vaeron watched it intently. "All you can say, or will say?" He questioned.

"L-Let me, and you can... see for yourself," It said, barely bringing out his bony hands. "I-If you t-touch me, that is,"

He scoffed indifferently. "And why should I abide by that?"

The creature gritted its teeth, dropping its hand instantly as strength betrayed it. "B-Because you need me. You want answers. You want information. You want to know why she was taken," Those black eyes met his with subtle confidence and certainty, like it could see what he only showed him.

Because deep within, the hazel-eyed Sin had no soul to delve into. It could see what he showed, not what was within. The barricade was too strong to crack open.

Vaeron’s eyes darkened. Of course, he wanted to know why. He wanted to understand what for the first time in his entire existence, seemed ambiguous to figure out.

As much as he wanted that, he desired to kill. To feed the monster inside him what it truly desired. What it was truly made of.

This wasn’t about her. This was about how easy it was to sway him out of focus.

He took a step forward. The soft thud of his boot against snow matched the striking pounce of a predator. "How did you manage to corrupt the rune built to destroy the Umbrathallas?" he asked. Thankfully, they didn’t succeed in raking across towns. He’d stopped them before they feasted on a soul, but that didn’t mean they were safe.

If what was meant to protect it fails, what was its worth? Breaching runes is an open risk to otherworldly creatures gaining entrance to the living world. And if its value loses meaning, magic would too.

It didn’t reply immediately. When the pressure returned, curling around its spine, the creature cried out. "Enough," It rapsed at last. "I-I tell you!"

Vaeron did not release the hold, but he loosened it just enough to let the creature breathe without collapsing again. The forest seemed to lean closer as though listening when it opened to speak.

"The rune... it wasn’t broken," he started within shallow breaths. "It was persuaded, perfectly designed to... to make one believe it was breached,"

Vaeron’s brows tightened at the knowledge. "Runes don’t listen. They are forged,"

"No," It agreed weakly. "But they remember and that’s how their existence was... known," it said.

"Be specific,"

The creature gritted its teeth and inhaled a harsh breath before continuing, "The Umbrathallas were made to protect and be erased at the end, but the rune that binds them was forged with intent," It explained. "Fear. Rage. Power. Loss..." It listed and a broken laugh escaped it. "Those things linger. They always do. It’s been carved,"

Vaeron’s jaw set behind his mask. He already knew where this was going.

"We didn’t corrupt it," the creature continued. "A truth? We fed it a sacrifice of will. Someone who wanted the barrier to fail. Someone close enough to touch the core without being consumed." The pressure around it spiked for half a heartbeat before Vaeron reined it in. Snow around his boots cracked, spiderwebbing outward.

"Who," he said quietly.

The creature hesitated, eyes flicking up to his face. Whatever it saw there made it flinch. "A warden," it whispered. "One swore to protect the seal. They believed destruction was mercy. That letting the Umbrathallas pass would end the cycle,"

Silence swallowed the forest again after he concluded.

Vaeron straightened slowly, the air around him growing colder and heavier. There were so many reasons not to believe words from the creature but the impossibility was thin.

A warden, he thought. Of all the answers, this was the one he had not wanted. The rune had not failed - it had been betrayed.

Vaeron drew in a sharp breath. Day by day, there was always a reason to despise living creatures. Their desperation for power could never be substituted no matter the intervention of the Realm.

"And her?" he asked. The question cut sharper than the pressure ever could.

The creature laughed. It came out as a thin, broken sound. "You already know," it rasped. "You wouldn’t be here otherwise."

Vaeron didn’t reply. For a fleeting moment, something dark flickered behind his eyes - something old, something furious, and then it was gone as quickly as it came.

"Try again," he said softly.

"She’s a key," the creature whispered, almost spitefully now. "A threshold. Something inside her sings to places that haven’t opened in eras," It coughed, black flecks staining the forest floor. "You guard her because you feel it. You know what she is, but you fail to understand how..." Pain rippled through its body without Vaeron touching it, as though something deep within had twisted violently. It cried out, clutching its head as black veins flared beneath its skin.

Vaeron watched intently without moving. Draining its energy had not only weakened its body but ensured that whatever influence bound it would sputter and fade. Yet the longer the creature lay exposed, the more certain its end became inevitable.

"Tell me why she was made a vessel for black magic," he petitioned.

It scarcely had the strength to lift its gaze to meet his. Even so, a taut restraint lingered in the air around it, but exhaustion wore it.

Sensing his restraint, Vaerin flicked his fingers and the pain surged abruptly. The creature cried out, its hands clawing at the snow as its body arched involuntarily. It made incoherent noises, struggling to fight against the heat sizzling its bones.

Vaeron held it there, balanced on the edge between endurance and collapse. "Now, now," he said calmly, "You were saying?

The creature sobbed loudly as its resistance fractured under the pressure. All too soon, words tore free, broken and raw, "C-Cat-" it gasped. "A-A catalyst!"

Vaeron released the pain instantly. The moment he did, the creature collapsed, shaking violently against the cold ground and the gust of wind that came through.

"Good," he said. "That was another honesty," and it wheezed bitterly in response.

The next second, shadow rippled through the air, folding in on itself before tearing open into a darkened portal, eerily similar to the one the creature had failed to complete earlier. Power bled from it in heavy waves, intoxicating, beckoning, like the false promise of light at the end of a tunnel.

Vaeron lowered his hand slowly and stared at the creature whose gaze was fixed on the distortion, contemplating whether or not move. The first escape had been a deception; it doubted this one was any different.

Still, Vaeron didn’t stop it. "Go on," he urged it with a voice almost calm and generous. "Consider it your reward,"