Torven fell heavily onto the cold, stone floor. His body convulsed violently, seized by a pain that spread through him like fire burning every nerve inside, and blood seeped from beneath his torn shirt, pooling slowly into dark, spreading patches on the icy concrete.
His breath came in ragged and uneven gasps, as if every inhale forced a fresh dagger deeper into his chest and ribs. At that moment, his hands were scrambling desperately, grasping at the empty air, searching for something to steady his collapsing frame. Still, his legs betrayed him, bending treacherously beneath his weight, as if refusing to support him any longer.
Nox screamed his name with urgency and raw voice, but before he could close the distance, Torven crumpled fully to the ground, completely powerless.
Only then did Nox's eyes catch the figure standing over their fallen brother;
It was his own brother, Abram.
Even in the half-darkness, Abram's presence was unmistakable: tall and broad-shouldered, his muscles tense beneath his worn clothes, and he radiated an unshakable confidence edged with ruthless cruelty. His blond, curly hair, which was once bright and wild when Nox last saw him only three years ago, seems dull now, streaked with darker shades, and the toll of time and hard choices is clearly written on his face. His eyes were sharp and merciless, cold and icy blue.
"Abram?" Nox gasped, disbelief thickening his voice, trembling with pain and shock. He hardly recognised him. It was as if he met a completely different person.
Abram straightened, stretching his tall frame slowly. He looked like a predator, savoring this moment. A cruel smile tugged at his lips.
"Hello, brother," he said, satisfaction dripping from his tone. His voice was cold and unforgiving.
He glanced at Nox with a twisted mixture of grudging respect and satisfaction.
"I thought you were like Cael, Ryen, and our father, you know? All that honorable and upright nonsense. But it seems you're exactly like me! I was actually pretty amused, seeing all of you completely oblivious, falling one by one, not figuring out any of it, not even your own power."
Nox's brow furrowed in confusion, struggling to comprehend Abram's meaning. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, his grip tightened around his sword's hilt, readying himself for the battle.
Abram's smile widened, taunting and triumphant.
"I won't lie, I was not thrilled you interfered with my little slave army. I had grand plans for them, you see. But... maybe I'll give you a chance. Imagine the power we could wield together. We could be ruling this entire region, perhaps even the continent! With our strength combined, it shouldn't be impossible!"
His hand moved deliberately, revealing the mark on his palm. Once a perfect, full circle, it was now noticeably smaller, faded, and worn, drained from overuse. It symbolized the power Abram wielded to dominate others, expanding his influence by force and fear.
Nox's attention sharpened, but his mind was being consumed with anger and pain that boiled like lava beneath his skin. No more words. No surrender. With a fierce snarl, he raised his sword and lunged.
His first strike was swift, precise, like a lightning bolt slicing the air. Yet Abram blocked it easily. Still, Nox pressed on. Their swords clanged against each other, ringing through the stone corridor like thunder. Each strike carried the weight of Nox's pain and desperation, and sparks flew as their blades clashed.
Abram smiled coldly, fluid and confident in his movements, evading attacks with the practiced ease. His counters were powerful and brutal, each one hit back like a hammer. One struck Nox's shoulder, sending a wave of pain crashing through him, but he still refused to slow down.
The fight resembled a dance of life and death, as if every single move was decisive. Nox leapt forward, aiming to knock Abram off balance, but his brother twisted away gracefully and drove a knee hard into Nox's stomach.
Nox's body screamed with exhaustion, but his mind was still sharp. Despite the agony and fatigue, every blow he struck was fueled by determination. He was fighting not just for himself, but for his fallen brothers' and father's peace. And for Torven. He had to do it for him.
Abram's cunning showed itself very quickly. Suddenly, he grabbed Nox's wrist with his free arm, twisting it behind his back, and slammed him hard onto the stone floor. Nox hit the ground with a heavy thud but scrambled back again to his feet, gasping for breath.
"Nox, stop pretending to be a saint," Abram sneered, his voice laced with icy mockery. "It's just the two of us here."
He looked down at Torven, who was clutching his side weakly, and spat with cruel amusement:
"Or perhaps... Is this the one you care about?"
Nox launched himself forward again, executing the move Torven had taught him, fast and precise. But Abram met his attack easily, parrying with ease.
"Your pet's not completely useless, you know," Abram said with a smirk full of irony. "You can still take his power."
Nox's heart stopped briefly, shock and dread flooding him. "What do you mean?" he stammered, halting mid-move.
Abram raised his eyebrows and laughed harshly, the sound filling the cold room with cruel delight.
"Are you saying, you survived by feeding off others' power without even knowing it? And they just let you?! What a joke! The funniest thing I've heard today."
Breathing heavily, sweat and pain mixing, Nox gasped out,
"Cael, Ryen, my Mark... Are you saying you were the one killing us?"
Abram's smile stretched into a victorious grin.
"I needed that power. You were the only one who escaped before I could finish what I started. Luckily, our father was a decent stand-in for a while. But now that you understand what we're capable of, I might let you live; If you join me and swear your allegiance to me, of course."
He stepped toward Torven, who was still clutching the wound on his stomach, and kicked him lightly.
"You can just take his power from your little pet here," Abram said, a cruel gleam in his eye, pointing his finger towards the collapsed warrior.
Nox bent over Torven, who had collapsed onto the cold stone floor, his breath shallow and ragged. In Torven's eyes, apart from the expected pain and exhaustion, there was burned a fierce spark of defiance and resilience. His body seemed frail, almost lifeless, but the fire in his gaze said he was far from defeated.
"You knew... and never told me?" Nox whispered, disbelief and hidden bitterness thick in his voice. The sting of betrayal cut deep. He thought to himself, how could Torven hide something so important?
Torven managed a weak, pained smile despite the agony twisting his features. "How could I tell you?" he said with great effort, each word a struggle. "Just... Take my power, Nox."
"Never," Nox replied firmly, his voice steady despite the growing fury and sorrow burning inside him.
Abram, who had been watching with contempt and impatience, now rolled his eyes in disdain.
"Enough with the sweet talk, come on," he sneered. "If you won't take it, then I will."
Without warning, Abram seized Nox with brutal strength and slammed him against the cold corridor wall. The impact was sharp and merciless. The pain exploded through Nox's body as his sword flew from his hand and skittered across the floor, landing far away.