—To test the blade is to risk the cut.
The forest was quiet, unnaturally so.
No birds. No insects. Just the rustle of Kael's massive form as he moved deeper into the forgotten wild beyond Ashgrove's edge. Behind him, the sounds of the pride faded into memory—Nyra's measured voice, Valea's cautious optimism, Rakkan's low growl of concern. He had left before dawn, alone.
He needed to know.
Needed to see what it meant to unlock what pulsed beneath his skin.
The Abyss had been calling for days. In his blood. In his dreams. In the quiet moments between breath and battle.
Now, he was ready to answer.
Into the Ruined Hollow
He moved through ancient trees with a grace that belied his bulk. The deeper he went, the more twisted the roots became—bark blackened, vines pulsing faintly with a sickly violet hue. His breath fogged in the cold air, though the sun was high.
Eventually, he found the place: a hollow crater swallowed by overgrowth. At its center, a jagged stone altar stood like a forgotten fang thrust into the earth. It reeked of power—raw, wild, ancient.
Kael stepped forward.
The mark on his chest flared to life, glowing like molten embers.
His vision shimmered.
Voices echoed—unintelligible, layered, endless. A dozen whispers speaking in tongues not meant for this world.
And beneath it all: one word.
"Choose."
The First Step
Kael crouched before the stone. He closed his eyes, forcing his breathing steady.
I won't be your puppet. If you want to tempt me, then show me the truth of what you are.
The Abyss responded—not with words, but sensation.
Heat surged through his limbs. His muscles strained as if under unseen weight. Shadows danced across his mind, revealing glimpses of what he could become.
And then—
Three paths unfolded before him.
Not physically, but in a trance-like vision that rooted him to the spot:
Path of the Dreadclaw Sovereign
His form grew leaner, faster. Long, obsidian claws curved like blades from his paws. His mane shimmered with living shadow. This form radiated terror—built to lead from the front, swift and surgical. A master of psychological warfare.
Traits: Fear aura, shadow movement, mindbreak roar.
Path of the Abyssal Warden
His body swelled with power—armor-like plates of void-touched bone layered over muscle. His mane twisted into crown-like ridges. A sentinel of unyielding will, his roar could halt armies.
Traits: Titan's resilience, void fortification, domain of control.
Path of the Eclipsing Flame
From his mane rose flickers of black flame. His body exuded destructive energy, burning both land and foe. A force of nature bound to rage, yet controlled by cunning.
Traits: Abyssal fire manipulation, burning aura, devastating AOE attacks.
Kael's eyes snapped open. Blood trickled from his nose.
None of the evolutions had fully taken hold—he had only glimpsed them. Tasted them.
The mark on his chest dimmed, but something had changed.
His claws—once dull ivory—were now streaked with obsidian veins.
His breath steamed with heat, even in the cool air.
And deep within, a fragment of the Abyss had been accepted.
He had begun to change.
A Beast Drawn by Blood
A screech tore through the hollow.
Kael spun as a creature lunged from the trees—a twisted beast of sinew and bone, stitched together by corruption. It had once been a bear… now it was something far worse. Its eyes glowed with the same violet energy that pulsed in Kael's veins.
The Abyss had sensed his activation.
And it had sent a test.
Kael didn't retreat.
He roared, charging forward—claws meeting corrupted hide in a flurry of strikes.
The Battle Within
The beast moved erratically, twitching and jerking as if controlled by multiple minds. Its hide deflected his first strikes, but Kael danced around it, striking at joints and weak points. He could feel it—the edge the Abyss granted. His reflexes sharper. His mind calculating faster.
Yet with every strike, the mark pulsed harder.
Faster.
More, the Abyss seemed to say. More blood. More rage.
Kael almost gave in.
Almost.
But then he remembered Fen's wide eyes. Rakkan's gruff loyalty. Nyra's warning.
And he chose to hold back.
With a final pounce, he crushed the beast's throat, ending it with a decisive snap.
He stood over the corpse, chest heaving, blood coating his jaws.
And for the first time since this nightmare began—
He felt like himself.
Returning to Ashgrove
When Kael returned to the camp, the pride noticed the change.
His aura had deepened—his presence heavier. Shadows clung to him even in daylight. And those who looked too long into his eyes saw something… ancient.
But he walked with clarity.
Not consumed. Not broken.
Nyra approached him as he settled near the central fire.
"You touched it," she said, quietly.
Kael nodded. "And I chose not to drown."
She looked at him for a long moment. "Then maybe you really are the leader we need."