The First Lesson

The first rays of dawn crept through the cracks in the crumbling walls, casting faint golden streaks across the cold stone floor. Damian's eyes snapped open, his body rigid against the wall where he'd spent the night. Sleep had barely touched him.

The hunger had kept him awake.

It was quieter now—dormant—but still there, a constant itch beneath his skin.

The night before felt like a fevered nightmare, yet the weight in his veins told him it had been all too real. He glanced down at his palm, where the cut had sealed itself overnight—healed faster than any human wound should.

The proof was carved into his flesh.

He was changing.

Lucian's voice broke through the silence.

"You're awake."

Damian's head snapped up.

Lucian stood in the far corner of the room, shrouded in shadow as if he'd been watching him the entire night. His arms were crossed, his piercing gaze locked onto Damian with the same cold detachment as always.

"How long have you been standing there?" Damian muttered, his voice still hoarse.

"Long enough."

Damian's stomach twisted. He pushed himself to his feet, his body still aching from the night before.

Lucian stepped forward, his boots echoing against the stone floor.

"Did you hear them?"

Damian's brow furrowed.

"Hear what?"

Lucian's lips curved into a faint smirk.

"The whispers."

Damian's heart skipped a beat.

He had heard them—soft voices echoing in the back of his mind throughout the night. He'd thought they were just the remnants of a restless mind. But now...

He wasn't so sure.

"What are they?" Damian asked quietly.

Lucian's expression darkened.

"The voices of your ancestors. Every bloodline carries the echoes of those who came before." His gaze locked onto Damian's.

"They will guide you... or they will break you."

A cold shiver ran down Damian's spine.

He wanted to believe this was all some twisted game—some elaborate lie Lucian had spun to manipulate him.

But deep down, he knew it was the truth.

He could feel them... waiting in the shadows of his mind.

Lucian stepped closer, his voice low.

"Today, you take your first step toward mastering what flows through your veins. But be warned—" He leaned in, his icy breath brushing against Damian's ear.

"Every lesson will cost you a piece of yourself."

Damian swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing.

"Then let's get it over with."

Lucian's smirk returned, faint and cruel.

"Good."

He turned abruptly and strode toward a narrow staircase at the back of the room. The steps spiraled downward into darkness.

"Follow me."

Damian's heart thudded painfully in his chest, but he forced his legs to move.

With each step into the shadows, the air grew colder. The faint smell of blood and earth filled his lungs.

By the time they reached the bottom, the flickering light of a single torch revealed a circular chamber carved from ancient stone. The walls were lined with strange symbols—etched deep into the rock.

Damian's skin prickled.

"What is this place?"

Lucian glanced over his shoulder.

"A sanctuary... for those like us."

Damian's heart pounded faster.

"Us."

The word hung in the air like a death sentence.

Lucian motioned for him to step forward.

"In every bloodline, there is a power buried deep beneath the surface... but it must be forced to awaken."

He reached into his coat and produced a small black vial. The liquid inside shimmered darkly, almost as if it were alive.

Damian's stomach twisted.

"What is that?"

Lucian's eyes gleamed.

"Nightshade."

Damian's pulse quickened.

He'd heard of it before—an ancient poison, used in rituals long forgotten by the modern world.

"You want me to drink poison now?"

Lucian's smirk widened.

"Not poison... a key."

Damian stared at the vial, his mouth suddenly dry.

He could still feel the hunger buried beneath his skin—waiting, watching.

"What will it do to me?"

Lucian's voice was low, almost reverent.

"It will show you who you truly are."

Damian's heart hammered against his ribs.

Everything inside him screamed to run.

But something darker—something buried deep—pulled him forward.

With trembling fingers, he took the vial.

Lucian's eyes never left him.

"Drink... and listen."

Damian's hand shook as he pulled the cork free. The scent of the liquid hit him—bitter, metallic... like blood.

His throat tightened.

He glanced at Lucian one last time.

"Will it hurt?"

Lucian's smile faded.

"Yes."

Damian's heart clenched.

He closed his eyes... and drank.

The liquid burned down his throat, ice-cold at first—then searing hot. It spread through his veins like wildfire, scorching every nerve in his body.

He staggered back, gasping as the chamber blurred around him.

The whispers in his head grew louder.

A thousand voices—some angry, some mournful—filled his mind.

His vision darkened.

Images flickered behind his eyes—faces he didn't recognize, battles fought in shadows, blood spilled across forgotten kingdoms.

He saw glimpses of a world hidden beneath the surface—one ruled by creatures that walked between life and death.

And at the heart of it all...

He saw himself.

Not as he was now—but as something darker.

Something... powerful.

The hunger roared to life inside him, stronger than ever.

His teeth ached, his vision sharpening into something predatory.

He could feel the blood in Lucian's veins, pulsing beneath his cold skin.

His own breath came in ragged gasps.

He wanted to tear, to feed.

No.

He clenched his fists, forcing the hunger back.

Lucian's voice echoed through the storm.

"Good... fight it."

Damian's heart pounded as he gritted his teeth.

The voices shrieked in protest, clawing at his mind.

But slowly—inch by inch—he pushed them down.

When his eyes snapped open, the storm had passed.

His breath was ragged. Sweat soaked his shirt.

But he was still... himself.

Lucian watched him carefully.

"You survived."

Damian staggered forward, his legs barely holding him.

"I... I saw things."

Lucian's gaze hardened.

"You saw your bloodline."

Damian's mind reeled.

Images of long-dead ancestors flickered behind his eyes—warriors, assassins, monsters hidden in plain sight.

He could still hear their whispers, faint and distant.

"What... what am I?"

Lucian's voice was cold, but there was the faintest trace of respect beneath it.

"You are Valtor... and your blood remembers."

Damian's breath caught.

He didn't want this power.

He didn't want to be a monster.

But it was already inside him... waiting.

Lucian stepped closer, his voice a low murmur.

"This is only the beginning."

He leaned in, his icy breath brushing against Damian's ear.

"Now the real war begins... the war for your soul."

Damian's heart pounded in the silence.

The hunger stirred beneath his skin.

And this time...

It was wide awake.