Chapter-20 Feast Of Fear

The door groaned open, revealing a pitch-black chamber beyond the workshop. The warm candlelight from Lysandro's lair barely penetrated the oppressive darkness within.

Frederique hesitated, dagger still clutched tightly in her hand as Groff's massive figure stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter.

"Go on," Lysandro's voice echoed behind her, smooth but merciless. "You want to learn? Then step into the abyss and see if you can taste it."

Frederique swallowed hard. Her skin still tingled from the last lesson, the remnants of the fear she had consumed lingering like an aftertaste. But this… this felt different.

The hunger shifted uneasily inside her. Frideria stirred. Something's wrong, the voice whispered in the back of her mind, no longer silent.

' I know. '

Frederique stepped forward.

The door slammed shut behind her.

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The silence was absolute.

No footsteps. No echo.

The darkness felt thick, pressing on her skin like a damp fog.

Frederique's heartbeat quickened as she scanned the void. This is a test, she reminded herself. Focus.

Then it began.

A whisper.

No...whispers.

From all around.

" Why are you here? "

" You don't belong. "

" You're weak. "

" You're a monster. "

The voices multiplied, overlapping, echoing through the void. Some sounded like her own, twisted with venom. Others were unfamiliar... mocking, taunting, relentless.

She clutched the dagger tighter, the cold pressing into her palm as her breathing grew shallower.

A shape flickered in the dark.

A figure, pale and broken.

It was her.

But twisted. Gaunt. Starving. Her face hollowed, her lips cracked, her eyes sunken and lifeless.

"No," Frederique whispered.

The figure stepped closer.

It opened its mouth... and from it came Frideria's voice.

"You're already fading, Frederique. Soon, I'll have control. You'll be nothing but a memory."

The hunger stirred.

The fear was overwhelming, pressing into her like icy hands around her throat.

' No. It's not real. Fight it. '

She forced herself to breathe, deep and slow, drawing her focus inward. The fear was thick in the air, tangible.

' Consume it. '

But the voices wouldn't stop.

" They'll never trust you. "

" You're a monster. "

" You'll hurt them, just like you did before. "

Images flared to life...visions of her schooldays. The jeers. The bullying. The way they whispered behind her back.

The hunger howled.

Pain. Rage. Dread.

Frederique clutched her chest as it surged, her body trembling. It was too much.

" You can't contain me forever, " Frideria whispered. " Let me take it. "

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Outside the chamber, Lysandro watched through a one-way veil of magic, arms folded as the shadows rippled on the enchanted wall.

Groff shifted beside him, face grim. "She's been in there too long."

Lysandro didn't blink. "No. She's close. The pain is good. She needs to break before she can be rebuilt."

Groff's brow furrowed. "If she loses control..."

"Then she wasn't strong enough for the Shadow Corps." Lysandro's gaze narrowed.

"Let her suffer."

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Frederique fell to her knees. The darkness pressed closer, suffocating.

The hunger roared now, clawing at her insides.

"Take."

" Devour. "

" END IT."

She felt herself slipping... her thoughts scattering.

But something deep within stirred.

The dagger.

The promise she made.

' Control it. '

Tears welled in her eyes as she lifted her head, teeth clenched.

"No."

The hunger screamed.

But Frederique wasn't listening anymore.

Instead, she focused... just like Lysandro had taught her. On the fear. On the voices. On the pain.

Not to fight it.

To taste it.

The fear was thick, sharp, bitter. Tangible.

And she inhaled.

The darkness shifted.

The fear flowed into her, drawn like mist. Cold, bitter, but powerful. She felt it fill her chest... flood her limbs. Strength surged through her body.

The voices began to fade.

The pale, twisted reflection of herself blinked.

Frederique smiled. Not cruel. Not wicked.

Calm.

"You're not real," she whispered.

The figure shattered into nothingness.

And the darkness lifted.

The chamber was still dim when the door creaked open.

Frederique emerged, pale but steady, the dagger still clenched in her hand. Her breath was ragged, but her eyes…

They weren't afraid anymore.

Lysandro's lips curled into a satisfied smirk.

"Good," he said softly. "You've fed on your own fear. The hardest lesson of all."

Frederique swallowed hard, forcing her voice steady.

"I didn't break."

Lysandro tilted his head. "No. But you changed."

She glanced down at her reflection in the polished blade of the dagger.

Her eyes weren't quite the same shade anymore.

A faint, unnatural gleam lingered there, just beneath the surface.

Frideria had fed too.

Lysandro stepped closer, voice a whisper.

"You understand now, don't you? Control isn't suppression. It's mastery. You faced the fear... and instead of denying it, you made it yours."

He traced a symbol in the air with his finger, and the illusionary wall behind him shimmered, revealing a single sigil.

The crest of the Night Court.

"You've passed the test. And the King... " His smirk widened.

"... has deemed you worthy."