The Devourer's Dominion

Darkness.

It stretched in every direction.

Aetheron stood in the middle of it, a lone figure against the infinite abyss.

The Sovereign's presence loomed before him—a shadow without form, a voice without a body.

It pulsed inside his mind, not speaking, but breathing.

Waiting.

Watching.

Aetheron clenched his fists. "I don't have time for this."

A chuckle. Low, knowing.

"You think time belongs to you?"

The Sovereign's voice slithered through his thoughts like a whisper and a roar at the same time.

"You took what was mine. And now, you hesitate? Did you think power came without a cost?"

Aetheron's jaw tightened.

He had devoured the mark. Stolen the Sovereign's essence.

But something had come with it.

Something he hadn't accounted for.

The Hunger Inside

The void around him shuddered.

Aetheron felt it—his own power moving on its own.

A ripple of energy spread from his core, unstable, untamed.

Devouring.

The darkness itself twisted, sucked inward like it was being pulled into a black hole.

The Sovereign laughed.

"It has already begun."

Aetheron gritted his teeth, trying to pull back the ability.

But it wasn't just a skill anymore.

It was alive.

It acted without his command.

Devouring. Pulling. Taking.

Even the space around him was being consumed, dissolving into the void.

This wasn't normal.

This wasn't how his power worked.

Aetheron forced himself to breathe.

Focus.

Control it.

But the Sovereign's voice coiled around him like chains.

"You are not the master of your Dominion, boy. Not yet."

"You stole from a throne beyond your reach."

"Now… it claims you."

The Waking World

Aetheron's eyes snapped open.

He was not in the void anymore.

He was back at camp—

But something was wrong.

The others stood a few feet away, weapons drawn.

The ground around him was scarred.

The grass had turned black.

The air smelled burnt, like something had been consumed.

Aetheron's stomach twisted.

He had been Devouring in his sleep.

Oris's voice was the first to break the silence.

"…You awake now?"

Reina's grip on her sword was too tight.

Varian's stance was defensive, ready to react at the slightest wrong move.

Even Cael—usually the calm one—had a hand on his dagger.

They had been ready to fight him.

Aetheron's throat felt dry. "What happened?"

Oris exhaled. "You tell us."

Aetheron looked down at his hands.

His fingers tingled—like something had just uncoiled from them.

The memory of the void clung to him. The hunger.

It had acted on its own.

He hadn't been in control.

And they had noticed.

The Rift Between Them

No one spoke for a long time.

Then Reina stepped forward.

"You need to figure this out."

Her voice was steady.

Not angry. Not fearful.

Just clear.

"You're dangerous."

Aetheron swallowed.

"I know."

"We need to know," Varian cut in. "Are you still you?"

The words hit harder than they should have.

Aetheron met his gaze.

What was he supposed to say?

That he wasn't sure anymore?

That he could still feel the Sovereign inside him, whispering, waiting?

That his power was acting without him?

That his own body wasn't entirely his anymore?

Aetheron exhaled, closing his eyes for a second.

Then he looked up.

"…I'll fix this."

It wasn't an answer.

But it was the only thing he could say.

For now.

The Shadow That Follows

The night passed without rest.

Aetheron could feel it—the way the others kept their distance.

Not outright hostility.

Not yet.

But the doubt was there.

They didn't know if they could trust him anymore.

And the worst part?

Aetheron wasn't sure either.

Because somewhere, deep inside, the Sovereign was watching.

And it was waiting.