Veyne knelt on the carpet as Monk Kiastu lit incense around the hut. The woven magic circle glowed faintly beneath them.
"So, young man," Kiastu said, his hood shadowing a heavily burnt face and a missing eye. "What brings you to this humble village?"
"I seek your wisdom. I hope you can perform the aptitude ritual and reveal my magic affinity," Veyne replied.
Kiastu raised a brow, then nodded. "Very well. Bow your head, clear your mind. The ritual begins."
Veyne obeyed. Kiastu's hand hovered above his head, chanting quietly. The magic circle glowed green, filling the room.
Suddenly, the shadowy plain of Veyne's nightmares enveloped him.
"Where are we? This is unusual," Kiastu murmured behind him.
"Kiastu, we need to leave now!" Veyne called.
A voice, harsh and familiar, echoed from the shadows.
"Fool! Relying on weaklings is pathetic. Embrace your true nature!"
Veyne's old self stepped forward. With a snap of his fingers, jagged black blades pierced Kiastu, tearing him apart effortlessly. The monk's eyes widened in horror as he fell to the floor.
"Be gone, ant!" the old Veyne spat. "I wish to speak to my spineless self alone."
A bony shark-fin erupted from the ground, bisecting the monk's body as Veyne looked on.
"What do you want with me? Why hijack the ritual?!"
"I am you," the old self said, voice like shattered glass. "Wherever you go, I follow. Whenever you dream, I am there. Look inside, and I am there."
Veyne said nothing, only stared.
"Nothing to say?" His old self sneered.
"I already know," Veyne admitted.
"Then submit to me more often, and I'll ease your burdens. I'll even tell you about your affinity."
Veyne exhaled, firm. "Fine. But you do not harm Nifily."
"Your new pet… very well. She may live… for now."
The shadow faded. Veyne awoke in Kiastu's hut, heart racing. The monk stood panting, pressed against the wall.
"What… What happened?! Who are you really?!" Kiastu stammered.
Veyne rose slowly. The black streak in his hair was permanent now. Kiastu's eyes widened.
"Veyne Moregrove… you are truly him. Why… just leave and never return!"
The air swelled. Kiastu clapped his hands; a gust hurled Veyne back and ripped a chunk of wall into the mud below.
Kiastu peered down, detecting magic, but saw none. Too late.
From above, Veyne leapt, skeletal arm piercing Kiastu's neck. Blood traced the bones as the arm sank deeper.
"Now, tell me my magic affinity," Veyne demanded.
The monk's gurgling eyes tried to respond. "Grr-I'll never tell y–"
"I wasn't talking to you," Veyne whispered, yanking his arm free and letting Kiastu fall into the mud.
Behind him, a familiar visage appeared, smiling.
"Looks like your magic aptitude is… 'Beast Wake.' Have fun learning."
And then, silence. Veyne was alone. Standing over the mess he had caused.