The Mark of Power

The room around Elysiel was drenched in shadows as she opened her eyes, her mind hazy and still groggy from the injury she had sustained in the battle. The silence that surrounded her was deep, but there was a weight in the air, as if the very castle itself was waiting for something. She moved slowly, trying to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through her shoulder, bringing back fragmented memories of Draven's attack and the battle that had devastated Elandor's defenses.

As she glanced at the arm where Draven had struck her, Elysiel froze. There, etched into her skin, was a mark—a scar that was not natural. The design was intricate, with dark lines and geometric shapes that seemed to move subtly under her skin, as though the mark was alive. The symbol pulsed with an unfamiliar energy, a direct connection to Seraphis's power now flowing through her entire body.

Her heart began to race. What did this mean? The mark wasn't just a reminder of the attack; it was a physical reminder of her bond with Seraphis, a visible sign that her soul, her body, were irrevocably tied to his power. Elysiel tried to suppress her panic, but the presence of the mark was disturbing. 

When Seraphis entered the room, his presence seemed to absorb the light around him. He approached her with an almost arrogant calmness, his red eyes locked on the newly formed mark on Elysiel's arm. There was something in his expression that mixed satisfaction and power, as if he had known what was happening long before she realized it.

— The mark is a symbol of our bond, of the strength we share. It connects you directly to my power. Now, you are more than just the queen. You are part of the shadows.

Elysiel looked at him, her heart torn between fascination and fear. The power she felt flowing through the mark was real, tangible, but it also carried a weight. Something inside her was changing, and this transformation was no longer a choice—it was a reality imposed by the pact she had sealed with Seraphis.

— What does this mean, Seraphis? — she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. — This mark… is it permanent? Is it turning me into something I can never return from?

Seraphis smiled slightly, stepping closer, his cold hands sliding gently over the mark on Elysiel's arm.

— The mark is a gift, Elysiel. — he said, his voice hypnotic. — It is proof that you have embraced the power we are building together. But with this power comes responsibility. You can no longer turn back. You are now part of something greater than Elandor.

Elysiel closed her eyes for a moment, trying to absorb his words. The mark burned on her arm, as though it were alive, pulsing with Seraphis's presence. She knew she could no longer ignore how much her pact with him was transforming her, but the doubt in her heart still lingered.

Before she could respond, the door to the room burst open with force, revealing Lirian, Lynore, and the rest of the Fairy Council. Their faces were marked with worry and desperation, and it was clear that the battle had shaken them all. Lirian, normally composed, now seemed on the verge of panic.

— We need to speak with you… now. — Lirian said, without preamble, his gaze fixed on Seraphis with a mix of distrust and fear.

Elysiel, still dizzy from Seraphis's presence and the pain of the mark, nodded, allowing the council to enter. But she knew what was coming. The battle had rattled everyone, and the power Seraphis had revealed was not something the council could ignore. They had come to confront her, to demand answers.

Lynore was the first to speak, her voice trembling.

— Elysiel… what is happening to you? — she asked, her eyes wide as she noticed the mark on the queen's arm. — We saw what happened in the battle. We saw Seraphis's power, and we saw how it has changed you. This mark… it's proof that he's consuming you.

Elysiel could feel the council's gaze on her, full of fear and suspicion. Lynore's words were direct, and there was no denying the truth. The mark was the visible symbol of everything the pact represented—a direct connection to Seraphis's darkness.

Lirian stepped forward, his expression grim.

— We ask… no, we beg… that you sever the bond with Seraphis before it's too late. — he said, his voice heavy with solemnity. — This mark is a warning, Elysiel. It shows that you are losing yourself to his power. If you continue like this, there will be no more Elysiel. No more Elandor.

The council was united in their concern, and Elysiel could feel the weight of their expectations in every glance they gave her. They wanted her to make a decision, to choose between the power she now carried and the kingdom she had sworn to protect. But that choice seemed impossible.

She looked to Seraphis, who stood beside her, impassive, as though unaffected by what was happening around him. Part of him had known this moment would come—the moment when Elysiel would have to choose between her people and the destiny he offered. But he also knew that, with the mark, she was irrevocably bound to him. Severing the pact was no longer a simple matter.

— You want me to choose between Elandor and the power I now hold. — Elysiel said, her voice heavy with emotion. — But what you don't understand is that this power is what saved Elandor until now. Without Seraphis, all of us would have been destroyed. The mark is… yes, it's a symbol of what I've accepted. But I don't know if I can just walk away now.

Lynore stepped closer, her eyes glistening with desperation.

— But you can, Elysiel! — she pleaded. — There's still time. If you break this bond, we can try to save what's left of the kingdom. Don't let him control you. Don't let him destroy everything.

The council watched with bated breath. They wanted to believe Elysiel still had the power to free herself. But Elysiel knew it wasn't that simple. Her connection with Seraphis was rooted in her body, in her soul. The mark was proof of that. Breaking the pact now could be disastrous—not only for her but for Elandor.

Seraphis stepped forward, his presence dominating the room.

— They are trying to weaken you, Elysiel. — he said, his voice low but filled with an overwhelming authority. — They don't understand what we are. What we are building together. If you break the pact, you will be destroying Elandor's future. Do not let their fear control you.

Elysiel felt Seraphis's words sink deep into her heart. He was right in part—the power they shared had saved the kingdom. But what she had seen, what the mark represented, was something she could no longer ignore.

The silence in the room was suffocating. The council waited for a decision, but Elysiel knew that the choice she was about to make would change everything.

She glanced at her arm once more, at the mark pulsing with Seraphis's energy. The power she felt flowing through her was tempting, irresistible. But what would that power cost her? Her soul? The kingdom?

Elysiel took a deep breath, her mind a whirlwind of doubts. Elandor, her people, and the future of the realm were in her hands. But her very essence, her bond with Seraphis, was also at stake.