Fate of the Marked

Parting

Kael leaned forward in his chair, his curiosity far outweighing any lingering fear. "How do demons like that even get here? What's their goal? Do they want to rule us or something?"

Rowan let out a low sigh, crossing his arms. "I don't know everything," he admitted. "But what I do know is that they aren't here by accident. Each of them represents one of the Seven Sins—pride, wrath, envy, greed, lust, gluttony, sloth. They embody those traits, thrive on them, and... spread them. Like a disease."

Kael furrowed his brow. "Spread them? How?"

Rowan's gaze turned distant for a moment before he answered. "By amplifying those traits in people. By planting seeds of their sin and letting it grow. They turn us into something closer to them—horrible, twisted creatures, full of nothing but the sin they embody. They don't want to rule us; they want to break us. Corrupt us."

"Like parasites," Kael murmured, his voice quiet but edged with disgust.

I stayed silent, Rowan's words turning over in my mind. Parasites. It made sense. And I couldn't ignore the truth in his theory.

The memory of Lucian crept up on me, his smooth voice praising my abilities, feeding my pride. The way it felt good to hear it, to think—even for a moment—that I really was as exceptional as he said. Then Mammonel... I thought about that endless, twisted smile and his taunts, the hunger he planted in me for the gold, the way I'd barely spared a thought for Bram and Lyara after their deaths.

It wasn't just subtle; it was insidious.

I clenched my fists, the realization hitting harder than I wanted to admit. I had been horrible. To Bram, to Lyara, even to myself. All I'd cared about was the gold.

I swallowed hard, guilt twisting in my chest. The demons weren't just dangerous because of their strength; they could warp you without you even noticing. They made you complicit in their destruction, turning you into something... worse.

"So," Kael said, breaking the silence, "how do we stop that?"

Rowan's voice was flat, but his answer was chilling. "You don't let it take root. You fight it, every second, every moment. And you hope you're strong enough to resist."

I glanced down at my hands, my fingers brushing against my staff. Strong enough to resist. Maybe. But what if I wasn't? What if, deep down, the demons already had their hooks in me?

Rowan's voice was steady as he spoke. "But even without them—without the demons in this world—we still have those sins inside us. That's the point. They're part of who we are. The demons just amplify them, twisting us into something worse. That's what I think they're here for: to turn us against ourselves. To make us fall."

I felt a chill run through me, the weight of his words sinking deep.

"That's why," Rowan continued, his tone hardening, "the best thing for us to do is to kill them. All of them."

Kael, sitting beside me, looked down at his hands. "But they're so strong," he murmured. "I just brought down a dragon with my fists, and I couldn't even scratch that thing. It was like punching a mountain."

"Which means you have to be stronger," I said, my voice firm.

Kael's head shot up, his eyes meeting mine. For the first time since I'd met him, there was no humor or cheek in his expression—just raw determination. I gave him a small nod, one I hoped he'd read as encouragement.

Rowan, meanwhile, reached for the pack at his side. From it, he pulled a large pouch, heavy and bulging, and placed it on my lap with an audible thud.

"What's this?" I asked, frowning.