The Artifact’s Control
The artifact’s hum deepened, resonating through the chamber like a heartbeat out of sync with Lyra’s own. Its crimson glow painted her trembling hands in hues of menace, each pulse clawing at her resolve. Lyra’s silver eyes were wide with fear and uncertainty as the whispers intensified, wrapping around her mind like tendrils of shadow.
“Unleash me,” they urged, insistent and unrelenting. “You are stronger than this.”
During the training session with Eira, the artifact’s influence had grown too overwhelming to ignore. Eira stood across the room, her posture rigid, her piercing gaze fixed on Lyra. “Channel its energy into the spell,” she instructed, her voice cold, unwavering. “Feel it, wield it, make it yours.”
Lyra gritted her teeth, fighting to drown out the whispers. She extended her hands, her trembling fingers aiming to direct the artifact’s chaotic power. For a moment, the energy seemed to obey her. The artifact’s glow brightened, but then the whispers surged, their volume rising into a deafening roar.
“Unleash me.”
The artifact exploded with energy. A violent shockwave erupted from Lyra’s hands, tearing through the chamber. Eryon barely managed to leap out of its path, his wolf reflexes sparing him from the brunt of the blast. The walls bore the scorch marks of its raw power, and a jagged crack split the stone floor beneath Lyra’s feet, the impact reverberating through the fortress.
“I didn’t mean to!” Lyra cried, her voice trembling with panic as she dropped the artifact to the ground. It landed with a resonant thud, its glow dimming but not extinguished. “It—it just happened!”
Eira stepped forward, her expression unreadable but her silver eyes gleaming with something dark. “That,” she said, her tone sharp as a blade, “is the power you’ve always been afraid of.” She gestured to the artifact, its pulsing light still flickering. “It’s your wolf, your anger, your potential. Embrace it, Lyra. Or it will destroy you.”
Eryon moved swiftly to Lyra’s side, his amber eyes filled with concern and protective anger. “She’s not ready for this,” he growled, his glare directed at Eira. “You’re pushing her too hard.”
Eira’s smirk deepened, her tone icy and unyielding. “The world won’t wait for her to be ready, boy. The artifact has chosen her—it’s time she chose it back.”
Lyra stared at the artifact on the ground, her breaths shallow and rapid. The whispers called to her still, now more urgent, their seductive promises entwined with dark commands. Her hands trembled as she reached for it, the glow dimming slightly, as if waiting for her decision.
“I don’t know if I can control it,” she said, her voice shaking with fear and doubt.
Eira knelt beside her, her voice dropping to a deadly softness. “You don’t control it, child.” Her silver eyes locked onto Lyra’s, filled with an intensity that chilled her to her core. “You become it.”
The artifact pulsed again, its whispers turning into a single, chilling command that echoed in her mind like the tolling of a death knell: “Give in to me.”
Lyra’s hand hesitated over the artifact, her wolf stirring restlessly within her, torn between instinct and the unknown power thrumming before her. She looked to Eryon, whose protective stance hadn’t faltered, then back to Eira, who watched with an almost predatory anticipation.
The artifact pulsed one final time, daring her to make her choice.
