Fangs in the Dark

Chapter 4: Slow Descent into Control

The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls of the outpost. Lysander sat by the flames, the old book lying open in his lap, its pages yellowed and delicate. Outside, the mountain wind howled, rattling the wooden shutters of the long-abandoned building. Korin's body lay just a few feet away, still and cold. The venom had finally taken him in the early hours of the morning, his body succumbing to the slow paralysis that had gripped him for days.

Lysander stared into the flames, feeling nothing. He should have felt something—guilt, regret, at the very least some sadness for Korin's death. But there was only emptiness. Korin had been a means to an end, a necessary sacrifice in Lysander's quest for power. His death was simply the final stage of the experiment, the result of Lysander's need to test the Gravebloom venom. Nothing more.

The book in Lysander's hands felt heavier now, as though the weight of its knowledge pressed down on him. Each time he opened it, he could feel the power contained within its pages, the secrets of the Nirvathri that had been hidden for so long. And now, they were his. He had mastered the Gravebloom venom, and it was only the beginning.

Lysander turned the page, his eyes scanning the words with a hunger that bordered on obsession. The next section of the book detailed the creation of more potent toxins—poisons that could not only kill but also corrupt the mind, clouding judgment and turning friends into enemies. These poisons were far more dangerous than the Gravebloom venom, but they offered something that excited Lysander even more than the idea of death: control.

According to the book, these poisons were used by the most powerful of the Nirvathri to bend others to their will. A single drop could make a person forget who they were, warp their perception of reality, and leave them utterly dependent on the poisoner. It wasn't just about killing—it was about domination.

Lysander's heart raced as he read. This was what he had been searching for. Power not just to kill but to control—to bend others to his will, to make them puppets in his grand design. The possibilities were endless. He could infiltrate the Holy Nation, plant these poisons in their food, their water. He could make their leaders bow to him without them ever realizing it. He could take everything from them.

But first, he needed more practice. The Gravebloom venom had been a success, but these new poisons required more precision, more knowledge. He needed to understand the full extent of their power before he could use them to their full potential.

Lysander closed the book and stood, walking over to Korin's body. The cold, lifeless shell that had once been a man was of no use to him now. Korin had been weak, pathetic, and ultimately disposable. Lysander felt a flicker of disdain as he looked down at him, the dead man's eyes still open, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"It's a shame you were so weak," Lysander said softly, more to himself than to the corpse. "You could have been useful if you'd had more strength."

He knelt down beside the body and closed Korin's eyes with a gentle hand. There was no ceremony, no ritual to the act. It was simply a matter of tidying up, of erasing the evidence of his first experiment. He would bury the body later, once he had finished with his work. For now, Korin's corpse would serve as a reminder of the power Lysander had gained and the power he still sought to claim.

Lysander stood again and moved to the small makeshift kitchen they had set up in the outpost. His supplies were limited, but he had enough to begin working on the next poison. The book called it Mindrot, a toxin that attacked the mind rather than the body. It worked slowly, clouding the victim's thoughts, and twisting their perception of reality until they could no longer distinguish truth from lies. The poisoner could then plant suggestions, alter memories, and ultimately control their victim's actions without them ever knowing they had been manipulated.