The Descent

They dragged Silas through the hidden passages of the manor, down into the damp, salt-slicked tunnels beneath the cliffs.

The Sea Cave, known as the Maw, was a cathedral of nightmares. The ceiling was lost in darkness, and the floor was a pool of black water that pulsed with a rhythmic, booming heartbeat. Bioluminescent fungi clung to the walls, casting a sickly green light.

In the center of the cave was a stone altar, stained with centuries of blood.

The cultists threw Silas onto the altar. He struggled, kicking and biting, but they held him down with magic that felt like heavy chains.

"Alistair!" Silas screamed. "Alistair!"

"He is coming," the Cult Leader said, sharpening a long, curved obsidian knife. "He can hear you. His bond to you is a leash. We pull, and the dog comes."

Sure enough, the air in the cave began to vibrate. The shadows lengthened.

Alistair burst into the cavern.

He looked terrifying. His coat was gone, his shirt torn. His skin was rippling, black veins spreading from his heart. He was already transforming, the Void leaking out of him.

"Let him go!" Alistair roared. The sound wasn't human. It was the sound of the ocean crashing.

"Complete the Ascension!" the Cult Leader shouted. "Kill the boy, and take your throne!"

"No!" Alistair lunged forward.

But as he crossed the threshold of the cave, golden runes etched into the floor flared to life. Wards. Holy seals designed to bind eldritch things.

Alistair slammed into the invisible wall. He screamed as the light burned his skin. He fell to his knees, smoke rising from his shoulders.

"You cannot enter, Heir," the Leader laughed. "Not until the sacrifice is made. The blood must touch the water."

She raised the knife over Silas.

"Watch, Lord Blackwood. Watch your humanity bleed out."

She brought the knife down.

Silas twisted. The blade missed his heart but sliced deep into his shoulder.

Blood hot and red sprayed into the air. It splattered onto the black water surrounding the altar.

The heartbeat of the cave stopped. Then it doubled in speed.

* THUMP-THUMP. THUMP-THUMP.*

Alistair saw the blood.

He stopped fighting the wards. He went very still.

Then, he snapped.

"Mine," Alistair whispered.

The human facade shattered. Alistair’s body exploded outward. His limbs elongated into tentacles of pure shadow. His jaw unhinged. Thousands of eyes opened on his skin.

He didn't care about the wards. He tore through them, his flesh burning away and regenerating instantly. He was a hurricane of claws and teeth and hunger.

"It’s working!" the Cult Leader screamed in ecstasy. "The Beast is born!"

Alistair swatted the cultists aside like flies. He reached the altar. But he didn't look like a savior. He looked like a mindless devourer. He loomed over Silas, a mountain of writhing darkness.

He was going to eat everything. The cultists. The cave. Silas.