Obsidian Heir

CHAPTER 1: BLOODLESS BAG

The heavy scent of an unfamiliar cologne and sweat hit Zachary Fields before he even turned the handle.

‘Huh? Elise doesn't have this Cologne… maybe it's a new one.’

He had come here with a heart full of worry, clutching the phone that displayed a frantic text from his girlfriend, Elise.

[Zachary, please come over. I’m scared. I need your help.]

He didn’t even knock. His hand was on the cold metal of the knob when the sound pierced through the wood; a wet, rhythmic slapping followed by a high-pitched, breathless moan that Zachary knew all too well.

But the low, guttural grunt that followed it didn't belong to him.

Zachary kicked the door open.

The scene inside was a jagged blade to the chest. 

Elise, naked as the day she was born, was tangled in the sheets with a man whose face was flushed with exertion.

She bolted upright, her eyes widening as they landed on Zachary’s pale, trembling form.

"Zachary?" she gasped, her voice more annoyed than guilty as she tried to tug up the sheets higher.

“What the hell are you doing here?" 

The man beside her, a sharp-jawed youth with a mop of bleached hair, didn't bother to cover up. 

Instead, he let out a sharp, barking laugh.

Zachary recognized him on sight, having seen enough of his face on newspapers and billboards in Silverwood city.

This was Bennett Sterling, the infamous heir to the Sterling Corporation, a man whose reputation for being an arrogant twat to people of lesser station was as vast as his father’s bank account.

"Oh, look at that," Bennett sneered, leaning back against the headboard, his broad muscular chest dotted with sweat. "The delivery boy is early. I thought it would take you at least another twenty minutes to crawl here."

Zachary’s voice was a cracked whisper. "Elise... What is this? I got your text. You said you were in trouble."

"Actually," Bennett interjected, his left hand coming out the bedsheets waving his girlfriend’s phone like a trophy, "I sent that. I wanted you to see exactly how much 'trouble' she was in. It’s a celebration, really. You’ve outlived your usefulness."

Zachary looked at Elise, waiting for the denial. For the tears.

For the explanation that she was being forced. Instead, she smoothed her hair and looked at him with a coldness that froze his blood.

"Don't look at me like that, Zachary," she said. "You’ve done your job. Why are you still hanging around? It’s pathetic."

"My job?" Zachary’s hand went to his side, where a faint surgical scar still throbbed. "I gave you my bone marrow, Elise! You had leukemia. You were dying! I nearly died on that table for you!"

Elise let out a sharp, mocking titter. "And I’m very grateful for the donation. But did you really think a girl like me would stay with a penniless orphan like you forever? We checked the donor registry months before we 'met.' You were the only match in the city. I only dated you to keep you close until I was healthy again."

The world tilted.

The warmth he thought was love had been a calculated harvest.

"You... you used me like a spare part," Zachary breathed.

"Exactly!" Bennett roared with laughter. "A walking blood bag! And now that the bag is empty, it belongs in the trash. Honestly, I’m surprised you even have the energy to stand. Your parents must have been just as weak and pathetic as you are. Probably why they dumped you at an orphanage like a sack of unwanted kittens."

The air in the room seemed to vanish.

He was able to take any taunt in his life. Be it about his clothes or his lack of money but Zachary’s parents were the one sacred wound in his soul that truly ever hurt him.

The pain of having been abandoned by them only something he had ever shared with Elise in the dark of night on their last date before the operation.

"Don't you dare," Zachary hissed, his vision tunneling into a red haze. "Don't you dare mention them."

"Why not? They’re either dead or they hate you. Either way, you’re worthless trash," Bennett spat.

With a roar of pure, unadulterated agony, Zachary lunged.

He swung a fist, connecting squarely with Bennett’s jaw.

The rich boy tumbled off the bed with a shout of surprise.

But the victory was short-lived. 

Zachary’s body was a hollow shell; the marrow extraction and his overworking had left him frail and sickly.

As he tried to follow up, his knees buckled.

Bennett scrambled up, his face contorted in rage. "You dare touch me? You piece of filth!"

What followed was a blur of violence. A heavy hand punched him so hard, he felt his jaw shift, his body crumbling to the floor as black dots swam before his gaze.

“You'll pay for that maggot!"

A strong leg slammed into his ribs.

He felt his lungs seize and his vision go dark as Bennett’s feral roar rang out like a funeral bell.

***

"Is he dead?"

Elise’s voice sounded muffled, as if through deep water.

"Who cares? If he isn't, the dogs will finish it," Bennett replied. "Throw him in the pit. It’ll look like he broke in and got mauled. A tragic end for a tragic nobody."

He passed out.

When he came to, Zachary felt himself being dragged, his body bouncing off cold concrete.

Then, the sound of a heavy iron gate screeching open. He was tossed like a bag of dirt onto a floor that smelled of rotting meat and wet fur.

In the darkness, dozens of yellow eyes began to glow.

Low, hungry growls vibrated through the floor.

Zachary lay in the dirt, his blood pooling beneath him.

As his consciousness flickered, his hand brushed against the grime.

On his finger sat a dull, blackened iron ring.

It was the only thing he had been left with when his abandoned basket was brought to the orphanage, likely given to him by parents he never knew.

As his warm blood soaked into the porous metal, the ring didn't just move, it pulsed like a heart beat.

Suddenly, a blinding white light erupted from his hand. Zachary’s body arched violently, his spine snapping like a whip.

He didn't scream; he couldn't. It felt as if a sun had been shoved into his veins, scorching wherever it touched.

The savage dogs recoiled, whimpering as the air began to hum

with a terrifying, celestial pressure.

Zachary’s eyes snapped open.

Rings of mercurial red burned in his dilated irises.