The Mill at Midnight

The moon hung low over the plains of Caldris, its pale light washing the abandoned mill in shades of bone. Kaelen crouched in the tall grass, the scent of damp earth and rusted iron sharp in his nostrils. 

Beside him, Garron fidgeted with the hilt of his sword, his usual smirk replaced by a grimace.

"You're certain about this?" Garron whispered. "Malrick's a prick, but selling us out to Xarnis? That's treason."

Kaelen didn't turn. The System's interface floated in his peripheral vision, its faint blue text unwavering:

[Corruption: 0.1%]

[Primary Objective: Eliminate Traitor - Duke Malrick]

[Reward: +5% Soulcraft Progress, Reduced Corruption Penalty]

"He'll be here," Kaelen said.

A distant rumble of hooves cut through the night. Three riders approached, their Xarnis crests gleaming—a serpent coiled around a pickaxe. Duke Malrick waddled from the mill's shadow, his velvet cloak swallowing his bloated frame.

"You're late," Malrick hissed.

The lead envoy dismounted, his voice a graveled threat. "The prince disrupted our grain tithes. The deal changes. Sixty percent of your routes—or we tell the emperor about your little tax diversions."

Malrick sputtered. "That wasn't our agreement!"

Kaelen rose.

"Wait—!" Garron hissed, but Kaelen was already striding forward, boots crushing brittle stalks underfoot.

The Xarnis envoy spun, hand flying to his sword. "Who—?"

"A concerned citizen," Kaelen said. The System's text pulsed as he activated Soul Sight. Silver threads of magic coiled around the envoy—earth-affinity, Tier 2. 

Weak.

Malrick's jowls trembled. "Prince Kaelen? This isn't—!"

Kaelen flicked his fingers.

Garron lunged from the grass, blade slicing the envoy's throat before the man could scream. The other riders drew steel, but Kaelen was already moving. He sidestepped a sword thrust, seized the second rider's wrist, and pulled.

[Soulcraft Activated: Husk (1/100)]

The man's soul tore free—a wisp of amber light—and dissolved into Kaelen's palm. The rider collapsed, eyes vacant.

[Soulcraft Progress: 6/100]

[Corruption: 0.3%]

[Memory Degradation Detected: Faint recollection of Garron's 15th birthday celebration.]

Garron froze mid-swing, staring at the lifeless rider. "What in the hells—?"

"Focus," Kaelen snapped.

The third envoy fled, but Kaelen hurled a dagger. It struck true, punching through the man's spine.

Malrick scrambled backward, tripping over his cloak. "D-Demon! You're a demon!"

Kaelen stepped over the corpses, the Voidwell's hunger humming beneath his skin. "You sold Caldris for copper. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"The emperor's Shadows sanctioned this! They'll flay you alive!"

"Let them try."

Kaelen seized Malrick's throat, the duke's earth magic prickling against his palm like static. Pathetic. In his first life, this man's betrayal had starved a thousand families. Now, he was just fuel.

[Consume Soul? Y/N]

Yes.

Malrick's soul ripped loose—a thick, oily strand of green. It tasted of greed, of stolen wine and children's bread. Kaelen's veins burned as the System updated:

[Soulcraft Progress: 31/100]

[New Ability Unlocked: Earthsense (Detect vibrations in terrain.)]

[Corruption: 0.7%]

[Memory Lost: First hunt with Garron, age 12. Partial degradation.]

Garron grabbed Kaelen's shoulder. "Kael, what are you doing? This… this isn't magic. This is—!"

"Necessary." Kaelen turned, letting Malrick's corpse thud to the dirt. "Burn the bodies. Leave the Xarnis crests intact."

"Why?"

"So the people knows Xarnis overreached." Kaelen crouched, arranging a dead envoy's hand around Malrick's throat. "A traitor slain by his allies? Even the Shadows can't dispute that."

Garron didn't move. His sword trembled in his grip. 

"You didn't answer me. What was that?"

Kaelen met his gaze. The System flickered, its text a silent warning:

[Host's Identity at Risk.]

[Suggest Elimination or Manipulation.]

He chose neither.

"You said you trusted me," Kaelen said softly.

Garron's jaw tightened. For a breath, Kaelen wondered if this was the moment—the crack in their bond that would splinter into betrayal.

Then Garron spat on Malrick's corpse. "Bastard deserved worse." He sheathed his sword, but his eyes lingered on Kaelen's hands. "You're… colder. Since the nightmares."

"I'm awake," Kaelen said.

They returned to Vernal Keep as dawn bled across the horizon. Kaelen's chambers stank of old wine and older regrets. The System's interface flickered persistently:

[Primary Objective Complete.]

[Reward: Corruption Penalty Reduced by 0.1%]

[Current Corruption: 0.6%]

He slumped at his desk, a half-finished letter to Eryndel's scholars crumbling in his fist. Sleep wouldn't come. Not when fragments of Garron's laugh—his real laugh, from before—frayed at the edges of his mind.

A knock.

"Enter."

Garron stepped inside, clutching two tankards. "Drank the last of your fig wine. Figured you'd want a swig."

"You hate fig wine."

"I hate brooding more." Garron set a tankard down, his bravado paper-thin. "Whatever you're doing… just don't become them, yeah?"

He left before Kaelen could answer.

The prince stared at the murky liquid. Too late, he thought. But as he raised the tankard, the System flickered—an anomaly.

[Corruption: 0.6%]

[Memory Recovery Detected: Fragment of Garron's 15th birthday. (Partial Restoration.)]

For a heartbeat, he remembered: Garron's laughter, the sting of stolen ale, a race through the wheat fields.

Then it faded.

Kaelen drank.