Amon listened to Vikir silently.
'Damn. Another backstory.'
He was a little annoyed. They hadn't asked him about his life or anything.
Jareth frowned but said nothing.
"I watched my companions rise stronger, faster, blessed by fate while I lagged behind," Vikir said, his voice trembling, his hand tightening weakly into a fist.
"Every day I trained. Every night I fought. And yet… I was still the weakest among them. I told myself I could catch up, but jealousy… envy… it eats you from the inside."
He lifted his gaze; his cracked lips formed a hollow smile.
"And that's when they found me."
Selena narrowed her eyes. "They?"
Vikir nodded faintly. "A group of demonic humans. Wanderers of the dark… They saw what I truly wanted, not honor, not pride just power. And they offered it."
