SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 25: The Demon Inside

Chapter 25: The Demon Inside

Morvane stood frozen, his mind racing with the flood of revelations that had just unraveled before him. He stared at the ancient scroll in Crimson’s hands, its intricate symbols and cryptic words still fresh in his mind. His hand moved on its own, reaching out toward the scroll.

The moment his fingertips brushed the surface, an eerie chill spread through the room. The scroll reacted instantly, slipping from Crimson’s grip and hovering in midair. Its once-faded parchment darkened, turning pitch black, while the ancient symbols and writings glowed a foreboding red.

"What in the world—?" Crimson muttered, gripping his twin katanas tightly as his crimson eyes widened in shock.

Medas, who stood mere steps away, tensed. "Morvane! Get back!" he shouted, rushing to shield him.

The scroll ascended, pressing itself against the ceiling with unnatural force. Red veins of glowing energy spread outward like a living thing, webbing across the stone walls. In a heartbeat, the entire room was engulfed in shadow. The light from Crimson’s flaming blade flickered, dimmed, and was consumed by the crimson glow emanating from the symbols.

It felt like they were no longer in the same world. The oppressive darkness twisted the air, heavy and suffocating. A low, guttural growl echoed around them, as if something ancient and malevolent was stirring.

Morvane staggered backward, his heart pounding. "What... what’s happening?"

Medas positioned himself protectively in front of Morvane, his telekinetic aura flaring with intensity. "This is no ordinary magic. The scroll is reacting to you!"

Crimson snarled, stepping closer to the pair with both katanas drawn, their edges gleaming faintly despite the unnatural dark. "Whatever it’s doing, we need to stop it before it consumes us all."

As the tension rose, a voice—low, guttural, and echoing—rumbled through the room. It was ancient, layered, and filled with malice.

"At last, one who inherited a fragment of my power found me..."

Morvane felt the words reverberate through his very bones. His vision blurred as something within him seemed to stir, responding to the voice. He dropped to his knees, clutching his chest as a searing heat spread through his body.

Medas knelt beside him, gripping his shoulder. "Morvane! Stay with me!" His tone betrayed his desperation.

Crimson, eyes scanning the shadowy realm around them, growled, "This isn’t just some curse... something’s been awakened."

Suddenly, the shadows began to coalesce in the center of the room, forming a towering, amorphous figure. Its glowing red eyes pierced through the darkness, locking onto Morvane.

"You... are the key," the voice hissed. "And the vessel."

Medas and Crimson exchanged a brief, grim glance. This wasn’t just an enemy they could cut down or seal away. Whatever this was, it was tied to Morvane in a way neither of them fully understood.

"Get ready," Crimson growled, positioning himself for battle. "This thing isn’t leaving without a fight."

Medas nodded, his telekinetic aura crackling like lightning. "Whatever happens, protect Morvane. We’ll figure out the rest later."

The figure lunged, its shadowy form extending toward Morvane as he screamed, fighting against the unknown force threatening to consume him.

As the shadow lunged toward him, Morvane squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable. Yet instead of pain, there was silence—deafening, absolute silence. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

Medas and Crimson were gone. The oppressive glow of red was replaced by an infinite expanse of black. He was alone.

"Medas? Crimson?" Morvane called out, his voice shaky. But only an eerie echo answered him, repeating his words back mockingly.

He took a cautious step forward, and then another. The darkness seemed to stretch on forever, disorienting and surreal. His footsteps didn’t even make a sound.

"This isn’t real," he whispered to himself. "It can’t be real."

Suddenly, he felt a cold, clawed hand grip his shoulder. The sensation sent a jolt of fear racing through him. A voice—low and venomous—whispered into his ear.

"Morvane, is it? Such a pathetic name... hahaha."

Heart pounding, Morvane spun around, stumbling back. He fell hard, the breath knocked out of him as he hit the ground. Looking up, his eyes widened in shock.

Before him stood a figure, impossibly sinister yet eerily composed. Its face was strikingly handsome, yet its body was cloaked in shadows so dark that they seemed to devour all light around it. The contrast was unnatural, unnerving.

Morvane scrambled backward, his voice unsteady. "Who... who are you?"

The figure tilted its head, a cruel smile playing on its lips. "Not the most polite way to greet the one who gave you a gift."

"Gift?" Morvane’s eyes narrowed. He forced himself to stand, though his knees threatened to give way. "If you come any closer, I’ll kill you."

The figure chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that made the air vibrate. "Kill me? The one who gave you your power?"

Morvane clenched his fists. "If this is the life that comes with that power, I would have chosen to remain powerless!"

The figure’s smile faltered, and it leaned in closer, its voice dripping with mockery. "And then what? Watch as others wield power over you? Sit idly by as the world crumbles? Don’t make me laugh."

It straightened, brushing invisible dust off its shoulder. "Anyway, I know this is... unsettling for you." The demon’s tone shifted to something almost casual, though it was laced with a predatory undertone. "Yes, judging by my looks—and the lovely reaction on your face—I am a demon. At least, that’s what the heavens call me."

It extended a hand, mockingly formal. "The name’s Drevon. At your service, whether you like it or not."

Morvane didn’t take the offered hand, his glare unwavering. "What do you want from me?"

Drevon’s smile widened, his red eyes gleaming. "Oh, Morvane... It’s not about what I want. It’s about what you want. Power. Freedom. Revenge. I’m here to help you embrace it."

The darkness around them pulsed as if responding to Drevon’s words. Morvane’s heart raced. He didn’t know whether to strike out or run, but one thing was clear—this wasn’t a dream. It was the beginning of something far worse.

Drevon will walk little steps towards Morvane and will say, "Now stand up. You look pathetic lying there."

Morvane hesitated, his body still trembling, but he pushed himself to his feet.

Morvane shouted "So... you’re not going to kill me?"

Drevon smirked, crossing his arms. "Kill you? If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve decapitated you the moment you stepped into my realm."

Morvane hesitated. "Your realm?"

"Yes. My realm, my dimension, my prison. You remember the scroll you touched? That’s the door to this place, and you—unintentionally, I’m sure—opened it."

"Why me? How the hell did I end up here just by touching a scroll?" Morvane asked.

Drevon’s expression turned mildly amused, his red eyes gleaming as if mocking Morvane’s ignorance. "Well, you already know, don’t you? You were chosen by demons to bear a fragment of their power. And unfortunately for me, I happen to be that demon."

"What? That doesn’t make any sense!" Morvane answered.

He let out a small huff, brushing imaginary dust off his shadowy figure. "Let me explain it in terms your mortal brain might grasp. Everyone in Baltalaha gets their mark, right? That light from the heavens that grants them their divine powers? Those marks are gifts from the twelve gods of heaven. I won’t waste my breath saying their names, because why would I? But you..." He leaned closer, his voice dripping with mockery. "You didn’t get a mark from the heavens. Your power came from here."

Morvane’s heart sank. "So... it’s true. My power is a curse from hell."

Drevon rolled his eyes. "Who told you this was hell? Just because it’s the opposite of heaven doesn’t mean it’s hell. Mortals always oversimplify things. This is my realm, a domain beyond the reach of the gods and their heavenly light."

Morvane took a step back, his mind reeling. "Why... why me?"

Drevon’s sinister smile returned. "Because someone needed to bear this power. And the universe decided it would be you. Lucky, isn’t it?"

"Lucky? How the hell am I lucky?" Morvane snapped, his frustration boiling over.

Drevon smirked, his tone laced with amusement. "99.999999 percent of Baltalahans get their marks from the heavens. You, however, are the 0.000001 percent who didn’t because your mark came from here. It came from me. You are rare, Morvane. You are lucky!"

"So what, I’m supposed to thank you for this?"

"Hell yeah!" Drevon leaned in, his grin widening. "Let me give you a heads-up about why you should be grateful. With your power, you can see the spirits of the dead, tame shadow beasts, and even stand toe-to-toe with demons like me—or gods, for that matter. You’ve basically got a cheat code, and you didn’t even have to work for it. Hahaha!"

"Stop laughing, you evil—"

"Evil?" Drevon’s laughter stopped abruptly. His expression darkened as his voice took on a sharper edge. "Evil? Me, evil? What exactly did I do that was so evil? Did I murder you? Did I break some law of yours? What’s your basis for that? Because I’m a demon? Because I look like this?"

"Well... ye-yeah?" Morvane stammered, caught off guard.

Drevon scoffed, shaking his head. "You Baltalahans always assume gods are the good ones and demons are evil. Let me tell you something: there’s no such thing as pure good or pure evil in this world. We were simply assigned different tasks. The gods were tasked to grant blessings, and we demons were tasked to punish. Just because we punish doesn’t make us evil—we’re doing what we’re supposed to do."

Morvane frowned, uncertain. "Okay... if you say so. But why me? Why did you choose me?"

"I didn’t choose you," Drevon said, shrugging as if the matter was inconsequential. "I didn’t even know I’d be stuck with you. Destiny chose us both, apparently. Trust me, I didn’t exactly sign up for this either." He laughed again, but this time it was laced with resignation. "But, hey, it is what it is."

Morvane crossed his arms, his frustration bubbling. "So what are you going to do? Am I going to live here in your realm forever?"

Drevon snickered, raising an eyebrow. "Here? Why, are you getting cozy? Of course not. I’ll be living in Baltalaha, and you’re going to bring me there."

"What? How?"

Drevon let out a dramatic sigh, rubbing his temples as if dealing with a particularly stubborn child. "Did you even listen to what I said earlier? We were chosen by destiny. You’re using my power, so we’re bound. Why, out of all people, did destiny have to choose someone so dumb?"

"Stop! Stop calling me dumb!" Morvane shot back, his face flushing with embarrassment.

Drevon shrugged nonchalantly. "Fine, fine. Let me simplify it for you, genius. Think of it like this: I’m providing you with a service—my power. But in order to provide that service, I need to be with you or at least guide you. So how would I guide you if I’m stuck here and you’re out there? Makes sense now, or do I need to draw a picture?"

Morvane gritted his teeth but said nothing.

Drevon leaned closer, his red eyes gleaming with amusement. "Also, you’re already rare for having this power. But the fact that you found me? That’s even rarer. Only a handful of the chosen few ever meet their demon."

"So what, you want me to call you my master or something?" Morvane snapped, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

Drevon chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, no, no, no. That’s my question for you, Morvane. What do you want me to call you? Master?"