The escape along the Oakhaven Creek trade path was a brutal, slow-motion nightmare. Theron's travelling boots, a boon for protection, were too large, rubbing painful blisters on Alex's heels. The wool cloak was a sanctuary against the night chill but a heavy, cumbersome burden. He moved like a water buffalo pulling a cart—slow, clumsy, and desperate.
The small supply of coin and dried tallow, coupled with the leather knife, formed his fragile ecosystem of survival. His entire focus was fixed on the east, toward the faint promise of the Thorp of Wyllow.
But the true, debilitating burden was internal. The black rabbit core, hidden beneath his cloak, was no longer a silent anchor. It radiated an absolute, freezing stillness, and beneath that cold, Alex felt the distinct, disorienting presence of another mind.
The First Contact
He needed to test the parameters of his terrifying power. Resting behind a thicket of brush before dawn, Alex placed the rabbit core on the ground. The preserved carcass lay perfectly still, yet the air around it felt strangely dense, vibrating with the silent consciousness he had accidentally trapped.
He recalled the chilling realization from the graveyard: he wasn't storing the Death Energy; he was a conduit, slowing its torrent enough to be useful. The core, now primed and occupied by a spirit, was the key to his new abilities.
Alex focused his mind, recalling the immense effort of concentration he used to exert during high-stakes financial calculations. He reached out to the core, visualizing his intention—a clean, sharp command for information.
"Who are you?"
The reply was instantaneous, a wave of sensation that bypassed his ears and struck the center of his skull. It wasn't words, but a blast of vague, miserable feeling: a cold, lonely desperation, coupled with a simple, crushing sense of loss and a desperate plea for release.
The spirit was weak, echoing the vague, shivering outline Alex had seen in the graveyard. Its sentience was minimal, like a newborn calf's—driven only by simple, overriding needs. The rabbit vessel, therefore, possessed little complex thought, only intense, agonizing cold emotion.
Rule confirmed: Sentience level is proportional to the entity's strength. This one is too weak to resist, but strong enough to complain.
The Telepathic Control
Alex ignored the emotional noise and forced his control, testing the first rule of his power: Telepathic Command.
"Point East. Lead us to the main road."
The cold pressure radiating from the rabbit core shifted instantly. It didn't physically move, but the invisible flow of the Death Energy it channeled suddenly twisted, pointing with the sharp clarity of a compass needle toward the rising sun.
Alex experienced a simultaneous secondary vision: a quick, ephemeral overlay of the surroundings as perceived by the ghost—a grey, indistinct view of the immediate landscape, unburdened by light or shadow. It was a crude scout view.
The core was not only an anchor but a telepathic scout and compass.
He retracted his mental link, and the cold flow settled back into its continuous, agonizing hum. The momentary exchange left him feeling utterly drained and physically sick, reinforcing that any interaction with the core was an expenditure of his already minimal resources.
Survival now requires managing a volatile, telepathic hostage.
He scooped up the core, placed it back beneath his cloak, and pressed onward. He had confirmed two critical elements of his defense: the ability to find his way, and the frightening ability to command his spiritual cargo. But the third ability—the power to disintegrate his vessel at will—remained untested and terrifying, an absolute last resort he prayed he would never need to use.
Alex has a compass, a spy, and a constant companion. The internal struggle is now tied to the external journey.