Nkosana sprinted through the narrow corridors of the abandoned monastery, his pulse quickening with every echo of booted feet behind him. The guards were fast—but not as fast as the thing within him.
*"Left. There's a hidden passage beneath the altar."*
He obeyed without thinking, skidding into the old chapel and leaping over pews now covered in moss and dust. He shoved the altar aside, revealing a trapdoor. Ancient hinges groaned, but he slipped through just as torchlight flared behind him.
Darkness swallowed him.
He landed hard, but the voice steadied him. *"You'll get used to pain. There's far more ahead."*
As he moved through the underground crypt, walls lined with skeletons of long-dead monks, the demon's presence intensified. He could feel its *thoughts*, its *memories*—a city in flames, a blade forged from human sorrow, a love that turned to ash.
"Why me?" he whispered.
*"Because your soul isn't clean. You were born to carry me."*
A door appeared at the end of the tunnel, carved with sigils that pulsed faintly. When he touched it, pain shot up his arm—but the door *opened*.
Inside was a chamber lit by floating candles… and a mirror.In it, his reflection no longer looked fully human. Horns. A flicker of wings. And those eyes.
Nkosana staggered back. "What are you doing to me?"
*"I'm not doing anything. You're becoming what you always were."*