Chapter 11: The Price of Power
Chapter 11: The Price of Power
The carriage rattled along the dirt road, the rhythmic clatter of hooves filling the silence between them. Jack watched the landscape blur past—rolling hills, patches of dense woodland, the occasional farmhouse with smoke curling from its chimney. Normalcy. Something he hadn't known in years.
Elara studied him over the rim of her wine glass, her dark eyes sharp with calculation. "You're quiet," she remarked.
"You talk enough for both of us."
She laughed, unoffended. "True. But silence is a waste when there's so much to learn." She set the glass down, leaning forward. "Tell me, Jack—how did you do it? Swallow a demon's power without the academy's rituals?"
Jack's fingers twitched. Shadows coiled around his wrist like a serpent before dissolving. "Why do you care?"
"Because," she said, voice dropping to a whisper, "every student at Lorian is taught one immutable truth: power always has a price. And the Abyss always collects."
He stilled.
Elara's smile was razor-thin. "Oh, don't look so surprised. You think you're the first to try cheating corruption?" She traced the rim of her glass. "The academy has been harvesting demons for centuries. We take their power, yes—but the more we use it, the more it uses us." Her gaze flicked to his chest again, where the remnants of Domu's essence still pulsed beneath his skin. "Eventually, the Abyss hollows you out. Turns you into a vessel for something new. A replacement."
Jack's jaw tightened. So that's their game. The academy wasn't just training mages—it was farming future demons.
"And you?" he asked. "How many have you swallowed?"
"Two." She held up two gloved fingers. "Minor ones. Enough to make me formidable, not enough to lose myself."
Yet. The unspoken word hung between them.
Jack exhaled slowly. This changed things. If the academy knew how to harvest demons, they'd see him as either a specimen or a threat.
He needed leverage.
"Elara," he said, voice low. "What if I told you there's another way?"
Her eyebrow arched. "I'd say you're lying."
"Swear to me," he pressed. "On your bloodline. On the Abyss itself. Swear you won't repeat what I tell you next."
The air in the carriage grew heavy. Outside, the horses whinnied, sensing the shift. Even the knights flanking the carriage stiffened, hands drifting toward their swords.
Elara's playful demeanor vanished. For the first time, she looked uncertain. "That's not a small oath."
"It's not a small secret."
She hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. I swear on House Veyne and the Void Below—I will not repeat what you tell me." A faint tremor ran through her as the words settled, the weight of the Abyss sealing the vow.
Jack leaned forward, his voice a whisper.
"You don't store the demons power , siphoning the demon's power to use. You devour it , making it very of your being , ripping it away from the abyss."
Elara frowned. "What?"
"The Abyss corrupts because it's hungry. It wants vessels. But if you're the one doing the consuming—if you make the demon's power yours instead of letting it rewrite you—you don't just steal its strength. You steal its place in the Abyss."
Her breath hitched. "That's impossible. The academy's rituals—"
"Are a leash," Jack interrupted. "They let you borrow power, but the demon's will remains. That's why it corrupts you. You're not taking anything. You're just holding it until the Abyss reclaims it." He flexed his hand, shadows swirling. "I didn't borrow Domu's power. I ate it. Made it part of me. The Abyss can't reclaim what doesn't belong to it anymore."
Elara's eyes widened. Slowly, she reached out, hovering her fingers just above his forearm. The shadows there twitched, drawn to her touch but not attacking. Not recognizing her as prey.
"...How?" she breathed.
Jack smirked. "I'll show you. But first, you swear another oath."
Her gaze snapped up, wary. "What oath?"
"That you'll follow me. Work under me. No lies, no betrayal." His voice hardened. "Or you can keep playing the academy's game and wait for the Abyss to hollow you out."
Elara leaned back, her gloved fingers drumming against her knee. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then—
"Prove it."
Jack tilted his head. "What?"
"Prove you're not just another would-be demon," she said, chin lifting. "Show me you can do what you claim. Then I'll give you my answer."
A challenge.
Jack grinned.
"Fine."
---
The carriage rolled to a stop at a crossroads. A weathered stone marker stood crooked in the dirt, its inscriptions worn smooth by time. Beyond it, the road split—one path leading toward the distant spires of Lorian, the other winding into a dense thicket.
Elara stepped out, her boots crunching on gravel. The knights followed, their hands never far from their weapons. Jack ignored them, his focus on the thicket.
"There's a creature in those woods," Elara said, nodding toward the trees. "A lesser demon—one the academy's been monitoring. It's weak, but it's fast. Two of our scouts vanished trying to contain it." She crossed her arms. "If your way is so much better, show me."
Jack didn't hesitate. He strode toward the thicket, the knights exchanging uneasy glances.
"You're just letting him go?" one muttered.
Elara's smile was sharp. "Oh, I'm very curious."
---
The woods swallowed Jack whole.
The moment he crossed the tree line, the air thickened—a cloying, sweet rot that clung to the back of his throat. The demon's presence. It was close.
He didn't bother hiding. Let it come to him.
A branch snapped.
Jack turned just as the creature lunged.
It was a grotesque thing—all elongated limbs and too many joints, its skin stretched taut over bones that jutted at unnatural angles. Its mouth split vertically, rows of needle-teeth glistening.
Fast. But not fast enough.
Jack sidestepped, shadows erupting from his feet. They lashed around the demon's ankles, yanking it off-balance. It shrieked, twisting midair to slash at him with clawed fingers.
He caught its wrist.
"Consume."
Darkness surged through his grip, tendrils of black sinking into the demon's flesh. It screamed, thrashing, but Jack held fast. He could feel it—the creature's essence, its power, its self—struggling against the violation.
This was the moment.
The academy's way was to carve out the demon's heart and swallow its power whole, leaving its will intact.
Jack's way was simpler.
He bit back.
The demon's shriek cut off abruptly as the shadows inverted, pouring into Jack instead of tearing him apart. Its form withered, collapsing like a gutted sack, until nothing remained but a husk.
Jack exhaled, rolling his shoulders. The power settled inside him—small, insignificant compared to Domu, but his.
No corruption. No whispers.
Just strength.
---
When he emerged from the thicket, Elara was waiting. The knights paled at the sight of him—his hands still dripping shadow, his eyes too dark.
But Elara?
Elara looked hungry.
"Well?" Jack prompted.
She stepped forward, stopping just inches away. For a heartbeat, he thought she might kiss him. Instead, she grabbed his wrist, turning his palm upward. The remnants of the demon's power flickered there, obedient.
"...I'll consider your offer," she murmured.
Jack smirked. "That's all?"
"For now." She released him, stepping back. "But I'll tell you this—if you can do to greater demons what you just did to that runt?" Her smile was all teeth. "You won't need oaths. You'll have half the academy on their knees."
Jack chuckled. "And the other half?"
"Dead."
The carriage door creaked open. Elara climbed in, glancing back at him. "Coming? Lorian awaits."
Jack looked toward the distant spires, then back at her.
He had a feeling things were about to get interesting.
---