THE FIRST BARGAIN
last update2026-08-04 15:28:59

Never make a deal with an entity that has no soul left to lose.

Thorn did not back down. He stood his ground on the cold cavern floor, staring straight up at the giant frozen eye hovering in the dark.

The purple light from the rift shifted, forming the faint silhouette of a woman bound to the rock wall by nine massive black iron spikes. Her hair floated like silver smoke, and her glowing eyes burned with ancient hatred.

"A mortal boy," a voice echoed directly inside Thorn's head, sounding like grinding glass. "A fragile, bleeding insect holding the heart of the Unmade Primordial."

Thorn clutched his chest, his dark eyes narrowing. "Who are you?"

"I am Lyra," the voice rasped, her spectral chains rattling in the dark. "I am what remains of the original world before those golden usurpers chained us and called themselves gods. They lied to you, little rat. They did not create this universe. They stole it and locked the true owners under the dirt."

"I do not care about your history," Thorn said, his voice completely flat and devoid of fear. "Tell me why you are looking at my chest."

Lyra let out a sharp, mocking laugh that made the stone floor vibrate. "Because you are using that relic like a club! Every time you unleash its power, you break your own body. Look at your veins, boy. You are rotting from the inside out."

Thorn looked down at his right hand. The skin was dark, his veins swollen and black beneath the surface. "You know how to control it."

"Of course I do," Lyra whispered, her giant eye narrowing as she leaned as far forward as her chains allowed. "I can teach you the basic technique to channel the unmaking power through your meridians without bursting your own blood vessels. I can save your life."

"And what do you want?" Thorn asked.

"Dissolve one spike," Lyra said, her voice dropping into an urgent, desperate hiss. "Just one of the nine divine nails pinning me to this rock. Use your relic to unmake the metal seal, and I will give you the technique."

Thorn stared at her for two silent seconds. He did not blink. He did not hesitate.

"No," Thorn said.

Lyra’s giant eye flared with brilliant purple fire. "What did you say to me, insect?"

"You heard me," Thorn grunted, taking a step closer to the chained deity. "You give me the technique first, or you stay nailed to that wall forever."

"You dare threaten me?" Lyra roared, her spectral chains shaking violently as black frost spread across the cavern ceiling. "I could crush your mind in a second!"

"Do it then," Thorn said, pointing a finger at his own chest. "Crush my mind and die in this dark hole. I am the only thing with the power of unmaking that has walked into this room in ten thousand years. You need me. I do not need you."

The dark frost stopped spreading. Lyra stared at him, her glowing eye searching his pale face for any sign of panic or bluffing. She found nothing. Thorn's eyes were completely dead, cold as iron.

"You have no heart left," Lyra muttered, a cruel, amused smile appearing on her spectral face. "The relic has already eaten your empathy, hasn't it? You are a cold little monster."

"Give me the technique," Thorn repeated, his tone entirely flat. "Or I walk out that broken door right now."

Lyra growled, a low, defeated sound that echoed off the deep walls. "Fine. But if you betray me after receiving it, I will curse your bloodline for eternity."

A sharp bead of purple light shot out from Lyra's giant eye, flying across the pitch black room and slamming directly into Thorn's forehead.

Thorn did not flinch. A flood of ancient knowledge burned through his mind, showing him how to weave the black energy of the stone along his arms like fine thread, guiding the destructive force outward without letting the feedback rupture his internal organs. He absorbed the technique in seconds, his breathing steadying as his black veins slowly settled back beneath his skin.

"It is done," Lyra hissed, her chains pulling tight against the stone wall. "Now fulfill your end of the bargain! Unmake the bottom spike on my left side!"

Thorn looked up at the massive iron nail pinning her leg to the rock. He raised his right hand, aligning his fingers according to the new technique he had just learned.

"Do it now!" Lyra demanded, her voice rising in frantic excitement. "Free me!"

Before Thorn could push his power forward, the cavern roof above them let out a terrible, tearing screech.

A beam of blinding, golden light punched through fifty feet of solid mountain overhead, instantly turning tons of rock and soil into glowing yellow dust. The sheer pressure of the descending light slammed Thorn onto his knees, cracking the stone floor beneath his boots.

Thorn shielded his eyes with his arm as a figure dropped out of the light, landing heavily in the center of the chamber.

The dust cleared to reveal a tall man in immaculate white and gold silk robes. His golden eyes swept across the dark room, ignoring the chained deity completely, locking onto Thorn with absolute disgust. Heavy, compressed energy pulsed around him like an ocean tide.

"Elder Vane," Lyra spat, her spectral form shrinking back into the shadows of the wall.

Elder Vane adjusted his white sleeves, his voice calm, cold, and heavy as a falling mountain. "So this is where the rat ran to hide. You carry a disgusting stench, boy."

Thorn slowly pushed himself up from the cracked floor, his right palm hummed with the black power of his newly learned technique.

"You took your time," Thorn grunted, wiping blood from his nose.

"I do not waste time on dead men," Elder Vane said, drawing a slender golden rapier from his belt. "The divine overseers have ordered your absolute erasure. Your soul will not even reach the underworld."

"Try it," Thorn said, his dark eyes narrowing into slits as he raised his hand.

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