Chapter 2: The Golden Cage
The years with Lycos eroded like a stone in a river.
The simple man lived a simple life, and I was the silent spectator of every monotonous moment. I watched him grow old, his back hunching, his calloused hands trembling. And one night, he simply did not wake up.
I felt the change instantly. The constant, rhythmic pum-pum of his heart, the drum that had been the soundtrack to my imprisonment for nearly a century, stopped. There was a final sigh, and then, Lycos's soul detached from his body. And with it, the chain broke.
For the first time since my reincarnation, I was truly free.
But my freedom lasted exactly seven seconds.
Like a cosmic harpoon, the System drove itself into my essence. Reality tore open, and I was thrown back into a torrent of golden light, crashing against a new soul, a tiny, flickering beacon of life. I was chained again.
This new cage was different. From within the maternal womb, I could feel the crackling energy of the external world: magic.
The child was born into a whirlwind of luxury and power, in a land of scorching sun and pyramids that rose like giants' teeth. His name was Khafre.
During the first years of his life, my existence was that of a silent and perfect shadow. I no longer fought for my human form; that battle was lost, and I no longer cared. I had accepted my beast form. Now, my energy was focused on something else: understanding the nature of my prison and perfecting my own power in the darkness of his shadow.
'If I cannot be free from the cage, I will at least be the master within it,' I promised myself.
The day Khafre turned seven was the day of the ritual. He was taken to an underground temple, a cavernous chamber lit by torches burning with blue flames. He was ordered to call upon any power that resided in his soul. I felt the tug. It wasn't an order, it was an invitation.
Curiosity stirred within me. 'This one is different. Let's see the face of this new cage.' I decided to answer.
From the small shadow Khafre cast, my form solidified. I rose to my full height, my aura of ancient power crushing the air in the room. A blind, elderly priest whispered in awe and dread.
"It is Canis Lykaon! The Dog of Darkness and Shadows! One of the Longinus!"
Khafre's face lit up with ecstasy. "The greatest power is mine!" he shouted. "Lykaon! Destroy that pillar! Show everyone my power!"
A silent, cold laugh filled everyone's mind. "Make no mistake, child." My telepathic voice was a monolith of indifference. "I am not your power. You are my anchor. I am Canis Lykaon. Not a trained dog." And with that, I vanished back into his shadow.
The years that followed were a long, silent war of wills. Khafre, hailed as a prodigy for housing a Longinus, became the most frustrated child in Egypt. He spent whole nights in his room, screaming at his own shadow.
"I command you to come out!" he shrieked, his childish voice full of impotent rage. "I am your master! You must obey me!"
I remained silent, an indifferent patch of darkness on the floor. Sometimes, for my own cruel amusement, I would make his shadow twist slightly, forming a claw or a grinning maw for an instant before returning to normal, just to remind him that I was there and deliberately ignoring him.
He tried everything. Priests performed rituals to force my submission, drawing circles of enchantment around him and chanting in dead languages. I merely dozed in his shadow, feeling their magic harmlessly bounce off my essence. He tried threatening me, swearing that he would find a way to seal or destroy me.
"Try it," was my only reply in a decade.
Life continued. Khafre grew up, his magical power flourished, and his frustration with me morphed into a latent obsession. I, meanwhile, used my time in his shadow to train. I explored the depths of my own being, perfecting my control over darkness. I learned to sense the world through every shadow, to listen to the whispers in the gloom. I was building my kingdom from the inside of my cage.
The first turning point came when Khafre was sixteen. He became embroiled in a formal magical duel, a mak'hrah, against a rival sorcerer from an enemy house. The man was older, more experienced, and Khafre was losing. I felt it through him: the panic, the pain of a fire spell that burned his arm, the imminent humiliation of defeat.
That night, there were no commands. There were no shouts. Khafre sat in his room, his arm bandaged, and spoke to his shadow with a quiet, defeated voice. "I cannot beat him. Tomorrow the duel will end. And I will lose. My house will be dishonored."
He paused, and for the first time, there was no arrogance in his voice. Only a question. "What do you want?"
I came out. Not grandly, I just solidified in the corner of his room, a silent mass of darkness.
"What can you offer me, jailer, that a creature of the night might desire?"
Khafre thought about it for a long time.
"Knowledge," he finally said. "My family possesses one of the world's largest libraries. Texts about the origin of the universe, about the gods. I will give you access to everything. I will help you understand what you are. In exchange... help me win."
It was an interesting price. Knowledge for violence. I accepted.
The next day, at the climax of the duel, when the rival sorcerer was about to launch the final blow, I acted. I did not fully emerge. I simply extended a single shadow claw from Khafre's shadow.
It moved faster than sight, silent as death, and slit the opponent's throat. The man collapsed, choking on his own blood.
Khafre won. And I got my library.
Our relationship became a transaction. He provided me with the texts, and I provided him with an unfair and terrifying advantage in his power struggles. It was through his scrolls that I learned the truth of my existence: the Longinus, the prisons of God, my purpose as a living cage. Every piece of knowledge made me stronger.
Khafre became a feared man, not because of his own magic, but because of the murderous shadow that followed him. Word spread of his "untamable familiar," and so the lie was born, the stupid rumor that would follow me for centuries.