Dorian Kael woke to the sensation of cold stone pressing against his back. His body ached, his limbs heavy as if they had been drained of all strength. His head throbbed, but he forced himself to focus.

  The figure still stood before him, watching. Its presence was suffocating, its ghoulish eyes glowing dimly in the darkness.

  “What do you want from me?” Dorian rasped, his throat dry. The figure took a step forward, the air growing unnaturally heavy around him.

  “Where have you hidden the artifact?” it asked, its voice a slow, sinister whisper. Dorian’s jaw tightened. “I will never speak of it. Even if I die.”

  The figure let out a slow, rattling breath—not quite a sigh, not quite a growl. Then, with a single movement, it lowered its hood.

  Dorian tensed. The creature’s face was a horror beyond words. Its skin was sickly pale, almost translucent, stretched too tightly over its skull-like features. It had no hair, no eyebrows, nothing remotely human beyond its twisted mockery of a face. Its eyes—voids of sickly, glowing light—bored into him, sending a wave of cold dread crawling down his spine.

  Dorian tried to turn away, but it was too late.

  He felt it—the creature’s presence pushing into his mind, slithering through his thoughts like a parasite burrowing into flesh.

  He fought back, tried to construct mental walls, but the thing was too strong, too practiced.

  Dorian’s mind began to unravel—memories spilling free, his past dragged to the surface against his will.

  A young Dorian Kael rummaged through a dumpster, his stomach twisting with hunger.

  Three days. That’s how long it had been since he last ate.

  He had nothing. No home, no family, no future. But he would rather search through the trash for scraps than beg.

  His fingers closed around a half-eaten piece of bread, buried beneath discarded wrappers. His breath hitched, his stomach lurching in anticipation.

  Then—

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  A whimper.

  Dorian turned.

  A dog—frail, nothing but skin and bone—sat nearby, its dull eyes locked onto him, pleading.

  His grip tightened around the bread. He could barely feed himself.

  But something inside him evoked kindness. With a quiet sigh, he tore the bread in half and placed one piece in front of the dog.

  The moment he did, the dog vanished into thin air. Dorian’s breath hitched. What treachery is this?

  His pulse spiked, instincts screaming at him to run.

  “Who’s playing with me?” he demanded. “Show yourself!”

  A shadow moved. A tall, imposing figure emerged, stepping out from the darkness. His presence radiated authority, his posture controlled, his gaze unreadable.

  In his hand, he held a strange metallic instrument, sleek and unfamiliar. With a fluid motion, he slid it into his coat pocket. Dorian’s fists clenched, his instincts urging him to flee.

  Then the man spoke. “You have true character, my friend. Would you like to work with me?”

  Dorian hesitated. The man’s voice carried weight, an unspoken promise of something more.

  He had spent his life scavenging, surviving. Work meant money. Stability. A way out.

  He couldn’t say no. The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of crisp bills, handing it to Dorian along with a sleek black business card.

  “Get yourself a decent pair of clothes,” the man said. “Come see me tomorrow. My office. Top floor.”

  Then, just as swiftly as he had appeared, he was gone. Dorian looked down at the name embossed in gold.

  Aldric Veyne.

  The next day Dorian stood before a massive glass building, its surface reflecting the early morning light. He swallowed hard. He didn’t belong here.

  But he had come this far. Inside, the air was cool, sterile, the scent of polished wood and paper lingering in the vast lobby.

  “There is a Dorian to see you, sir,” the receptionist said. A voice responded, smooth and commanding. “Let him in.”

  The doors opened, and Dorian stepped inside. Aldric sat behind a massive wooden desk, but his eyes barely lingered on Dorian before he stood, moving with effortless precision.

  Without a word, he gestured for Dorian to follow. Dorian hesitated before obeying.

  Aldric walked to the far wall of his office, running his hand along what appeared to be solid oak paneling. Then, with a subtle motion, he pressed his palm against a concealed indentation. With a soft click, a portion of the wall shifted, revealing a hidden door.

  Beyond it lay something impossible—a miniature forest inside the skyscraper.

  At the very center stood a massive ancient tree, its bark black as obsidian, its branches stretching toward the ceiling.

  Aldric ran his fingers along the surface, stopping at a barely visible groove.

  He pressed his thumb inside. A deep rumbling filled the air.

  The ground shifted, parting to reveal a spiraling stone staircase leading underground.

  Aldric turned to Dorian, a knowing look in his eyes. “Are you ready?”

  Dorian didn’t answer. He just followed him down into the darkness .

  Pain ripped Dorian back to the present, his body convulsing as another jolt of energy struck him. The wall in his mind shattered, and the figure’s presence slithered in once more.

  Dorian bit back a cry, forcing himself to fight. He had escaped destiny once before. He would not let it consume him now.