CHAPTER 2: THE POSSESSION
The forest was silent, broken only by the creak of wheels and the distant cries of beasts. A line of wagons moved slowly through the dark, their shadows stretching long across the trees.
Inside one of the wagons, children no older than twelve sat chained together, their faces pale and hollow. Most had already surrendered to despair, staring blankly at the floor as the night carried them deeper into captivity.
But one boy refused to be still. His face, striking in a way that seemed almost unnatural, dark long hair and deep purple eyes; twisted with effort as he pulled against the iron biting into his wrists. Each jolt of the wagon rattled his bones, each bump sent pain screaming through his body, yet he kept struggling.
'Maybe I should give up too,' he thought, chest tightening as he glanced at the others, silent and broken. 'Maybe it would be easier.'
Then their faces flickered in his mind: his mother, his sister, violated and broken, his father cut down. All because of them.
'No. Never. I will make them pay. All of them. I will destroy them.'
The wagon rattled on, each jolt threatening to shake him apart. The boy's wrists were raw, blood slick against iron, but he kept pulling, teeth clenched, breath ragged. Around him, the others sat in silence, eyes empty, as if they had already been buried.
Then... a sound. A crack in the night. Shouts from the front. The wagon lurched violently, throwing him against the boards. Horses screamed, guards cursed, and for a heartbeat chaos tore through the line.
He didn't hesitate. With a desperate twist, he forced his wrist through the shackle, skin tearing as he slipped free. Pain flared, but freedom was sharper. He stumbled to the door, kicked until the wood splintered, and spilled into the dark.
The forest swallowed him whole. Branches tore at his skin, mud clung to his feet, but still he ran. His lungs burned, each breath a ragged knife, the world around him blurring into streaks of shadow and motion.
Then came the sounds, sharp, cutting through the night. The guttural barking of wolves, the shouts of guards crashing against the silence. His heart hammered louder than the chase.
'Just a little further. I have to find a place to hide.'
He pushed harder, legs screaming, body already broken from chains and bruises. The ground tilted beneath him, his strength faltering. He stumbled, feet sliding, and suddenly the earth gave way. He crashed into a shallow pit, the impact jolting through his skull.
The shouting of guards and the snarling of wolves echoed above but they felt distant, muffled, as though the forest itself had sealed him away. His vision swam, colors bleeding into black. Warmth trickled down his temple where he had struck his head.
He lay there, numb, the fight drained from his body. Tears welled, not from pain but from the weight of what he hadn't accomplished, the bitter truth that he would never make the people who destroyed his family pay.
The thought burned bitter and final as the dark pressed in. His body trembled, too weak to rise, too broken to fight. The forest seemed to close around him, swallowing his breath, his rage, his vow.
And yet, even as the blackness claimed him, the promise lingered, sharp, unyielding, alive. He wanted revenge, he wanted justice, but in that moment, desperation broke through the fury. His lips parted, the words spilling out in a ragged whisper.
"Anything… anyone… please, just help."
At that moment, his vision exploded into blinding light.
From it stepped a figure, hair shifting through every color, eyes like storm clouds swirling with secrets that seemed to reach inside and strip him bare. Its smile was too perfect, too sharp, and there was something unreadable behind it.
"I hate when stories end like this," the being said, almost casually.
The boy blinked, disoriented. "Who… who are you? Am I dead? Is this… the afterlife?"
The figure tilted its head, grin widening in a way that felt both playful and dangerous. "Not exactly. Think of me as a god… or something like one. Call me Jynx, if you need a name. Your life in this body is over, but I heard your call — a plea for a savior. I can offer you another chance."
The boy clenched his fists, voice breaking. "A god...you said you are a god. Then… please, bring them back. My family: My mother, my father, my sister. Return them to me."
For a brief moment, Jynx's expression softened... almost human, almost regretful.
"Ah… if only it worked that way," he murmured, voice quiet, almost thoughtful. " The dead are gone… and you can't bear the cost for me to do something like that."
The boy's chest tightened, hope collapsing into ash. "Then what's left? If I can't have them—"
Jynx leaned closer, voice low, smooth, seductive in its rhythm. "What's left… is vengeance. You cannot reclaim the past, but you can carve the future. I cannot give you them back, but I can give you the power to make those who destroyed them pay. Isn't that what you truly want?"
The boy's breath caught. Rage flared hotter than grief. "Yes. If I can't bring them back… then give me the strength. I don't care what it costs. I want them destroyed."
Jynx's grin widened, benevolent and cruel at once. "Good. That is the answer I was waiting for. You cannot resurrect the dead… but you can honor them with blood. Accept my gift, and together we will write an ending they will never see coming."
He leaned back slightly, letting the words linger like smoke. "But understand this — nothing I give is free. My gift will cost everything: your soul, your body, your will. You will be my hand… my avatar, my blade. That is the price of vengeance."
The boy swallowed hard, yet his voice remained steady. "I accept. Whatever it takes."
Jynx's laughter rippled through the air, warm, unsettling, almost intimate. "That's more like it. Driven. Willing to sacrifice everything. You'll be… magnificent."
His tone shifted, casual but absolute. "First thing I want is your vessel — which is your body. It will serve another soul, one too blind to see my goodwill. But you… I will give you a body worthy of the vengeance you crave. Strength enough to make them suffer."
The boy's vision blurred. The forest dissolved into light. His strength drained, his voice barely a whisper: "Then take it. Just give me the power to destroy them."
Jynx's smile lingered, both angelic and devilish. "Oh, I will. From this moment… You are Zarek, my avatar. My sword. And when the time comes, they will learn… what it means to fear. You will be my ending, and the world will tremble with every step you take."
***
John woke with a jolt.
Cold mud pressed against his cheek, damp and heavy. His breath came sharp, too fast, too shallow. He pushed himself up, but his arms trembled, thin and frail, refusing to hold his weight.
'What… what's wrong with me?'
He staggered, his body screaming in pain. His legs buckled, too short, too weak. He tried to stand again, forcing his body upright, but every movement felt clumsy, foreign.
'This isn't right. Where am I'
His voice broke out in a gasp. High, small, wrong. He froze, pressing a hand to his face. Smooth skin. A child's jawline. Panic surged through his body.
'No. No, this isn't me. This isn't my body.'
But it didn't last long as he heard the sound of Barking: low, guttural, hungry.
Shouts followed, harsh and close, guards crashing through the trees. The sound cut through him, sharp as a blade. His heart hammered, every instinct screaming at him to run.
He tried. His legs moved, but they didn't move like he wanted them to, stumbling, dragging through mud. Branches whipped his face, his body was starting to give out, but he kept on moving.
'Why am I running? What's wrong with me?'
But the barks became louder, and the shouts grew closer. And John knew, in this body, he couldn't outrun them, but he still ran anyway.
Not well, not fast, just enough to move. His lungs burned, every breath shallow, breaking into sharp gasps.
'This isn't me. What did that bastard do to me'
'Uhhh, just Keep going, john. Don't stop. Just move,' he didn't know why but something inside him was screaming at him to move.
'Fuck, what do I do?'
He broke into a clearing, breath ragged, chest heaving. The night air felt colder here, open and exposed. Shadows moved at the edges, wolves started circling around him, their eyes glinting. Behind them, the guards emerged, torches flaring, blades drawn.
John froze, panic choking him. His body trembled, too small to fight, too frail to flee.
The wolves growled low, teeth bared. The guards raised their weapons.
"Hey, you little shit, you cost us a lot of effort, you know," one of the men snarled, stepping closer, torchlight flickering across his scarred face.
John froze, chest tight, breath shallow. He wanted to do something ... anything to escape this people, but his body wouldn't obey.
John's chest heaved.' I can't fight them head-on. I need to do something.'
So he let himself collapse, chains rattling as he fell limp into the mud. His breath slowed, his body slack, eyes half‑closed.
One of the guards stepped forward, crouching low. Leaning in a little too close. "Pathetic little rat. All that just to end up like this."
That was the moment John struck. His eyes snapped open, fingers closing around a rock hidden in the muck. With a sudden twist, he slammed it into the guard's temple.
"Ahhh—!" The man staggered back, blood running down his face. "You little shit!"
John scrambled to his feet, chains dragging, legs weak but moving. He lunged toward the trees, desperation driving him forward. For a heartbeat, the clearing erupted in chaos — wolves barking, guards shouting, torches flaring.
But his body finally failed him. His legs buckled, too short, too frail, sending him sprawling into the mud, the wolves quickly surrounded him making escape impossible. The chance was gone.
Before John could breathe, the guard's fist slammed into him. Pain exploded across his skull, white-hot, blinding. The world tilted, mud rushing up to meet him.
John gasped, choking on the taste of iron. His body screamed weakness, every nerve aflame.
'Damn that hurt.'
The wolves barked, snapping closer. The guards laughed again, their shadows stretching long across the clearing.
And John lay there, broken, the world of pain swallowing him whole.
One of the guards sneered, laughter spilling out of him. "Hah! You've gotten rusty, Bill. How'd you let a fucking child land a hit?"
The others joined in, their laughter echoing through the clearing.
Bill's face flushed red, shame twisting into rage. "Shut the hell up!" he snapped, but the laughter only grew louder.
His eyes locked on John, trembling in the mud. Bill's jaw clenched, anger boiling over. "This is all your fault."
He lunged forward, fists slamming into John. The blows landed hard, each one driving pain deeper, the world tilting with every strike.
John gasped, his body too small, too weak to fight back.
"Enough," Roth's voice cut through, calm and sharp. "He's no use to us dead. We need him intact."
Bill's face flushed red, veins bulging. "Shut up, Roth! I don't take orders from you?"
Roth kept his eyes forward. "Save it, Bill. Just move."
Bill spat, wiping blood from his knuckles. His anger simmered, but the fight had drained out of him. He glared at John's limp form, scoffing. "Fine. Let's get back. The others should've already finished the monsters."
Two guards hauled John up, his limp body dangling between them. Chains dragged across the ground as the wolves fell in line. Torchlight flickered against the trees, shadows stretching long as they carried him back through the forest.
John's vision blurred, the guards' laughter echoing sharp and cruel through the clearing. His body dangled between them, chains dragging, every step jolting pain through him.
John's head lolled, half-conscious, but inside the spark of defiance burned.
'I can't even get peace after death. All because of that bastard. I swear… I'll kill him… even if it's the last thing I d...'