Ashen Light

Chapter 15: Chimes

The outskirts of the town were a sharp contrast to the bustling center, where vendors hawked their wares and children darted between stalls. Here, the land opened into rolling, barren plains dotted with jagged rocks and low, wind-swept shrubs. Cyrus walked slowly, the hilt of his blade a familiar weight at his side.

The sun hung low, casting the landscape in hues of orange and gold. Yet Cyrus found little peace in its beauty. His footsteps crunched against the dry earth, the sound a faint rhythm to his wandering thoughts.

You're wasting time, Ryu-Kishyn's voice slithered through his mind, low and venomous. Shopping, teaching that pup how to mimic a mortal... What a pitiful spectacle.

Cyrus halted, his hand tightening on his sword. "What do you want now?" he muttered under his breath.

What I've always wanted, Ryu-Kishyn replied, his tone almost mocking. To remind you how futile this little charade is. No matter how many temples you find, no matter how many relics you piece together, you can't outrun me. I'm not a curse to be lifted—I'm a part of you.

Cyrus clenched his jaw, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "You're wrong. You were driven back once. You can be driven back again."

A low chuckle resonated in his mind, cold and echoing. Such conviction... But tell me, Cyrus, do your new companions know? Do they see the shadow you carry, or are you hiding it from them like a coward?

He didn't answer, instead continuing to walk, his shoulders tense. The wind picked up, whipping his hair around his face, but he didn't stop. Silence stretched between them, broken only by the crunch of sand beneath his boots.

You can't save yourself, Ryu-Kishyn said finally, his voice quieter but no less cutting. And you certainly can't save them from my wrath once I am free.

Cyrus slowed, his grip on the blade loosening slightly. For a brief moment, doubt flickered in his eyes. But then he shook his head, steeling himself. "We'll see," he murmured, turning back toward the town.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in fiery hues, Cyrus's silhouette disappeared into the growing shadows. The wind carried Ryu-Kishyn's final words, faint but lingering.

You're only delaying the inevitable.

The wind pressed against Cyrus's back as he trudged forward, his grip on his sword a silent reminder of the fragile boundary between him and the demon inside. He wandered farther from the town, his pace slowing as the barren landscape opened up before him, vast and indifferent. The weight of Ryu-Kishyn's presence bore down on him, heavier with each step.

You think your silence will stop me? Ryu-Kishyn pressed, his voice curling through Cyrus's thoughts like smoke. I live in your mind, boy. I see your every fear, your every doubt. You can't hide from me.

Cyrus stopped abruptly, his breath catching. His free hand clenched into a fist at his side. "Why don't you just shut up for once?" he hissed, his voice low but edged with frustration.

A laugh, dark and mocking, echoed in his mind. Oh, Cyrus. If I wanted silence, I wouldn't have chosen you. I relish your little rebellions. They're... entertaining. But don't mistake your defiance for control. You know as well as I do that when the time comes, you'll fall.

Cyrus's heart pounded in his chest. He felt the pull of the demon's words, the insidious way they wormed into his thoughts. But he couldn't let them take root—not now, not ever. "I won't," he said, more to himself than to Ryu-Kishyn. "You don't get to win."

The demon's laughter faded into a low growl, and for a moment, the air around Cyrus felt colder. Win? Foolish boy. This isn't a game. This is survival. You'll come to understand that soon enough.