The pridormial beast of ash

Chapter 5

"You picked the wrong house to bleed in, hunter."

The crushing weight on Ethan’s windpipe vanished instantly as the shadow beast simply dissolved into standard, lifeless smoke. The cloaked assassin remained perfectly suspended mid-air, his raised dagger frozen in time, his pupils dilated to the absolute edge of his irises. Gravity had ceased to exist for him. He was entirely trapped in the inescapable gravity well of a waking god.

"What… what did you do to me?" the assassin gasped, the words barely leaking past his trembling lips. "My body… I cannot move a finger."

"I did not do anything," Ethan rasped, coughing violently as he rubbed his bruised throat. He staggered away from the wall, his boots sliding through the melting black mist. "But I think you woke up someone who doesn't like uninvited guests."

The leather carrying box on the table disintegrated into splinters, unable to contain the absolute density of the aura expanding from within. Solis did not grow in size. He remained a tiny, fragile creature, but his pale, translucent skin was now pulsing with an intense, veins-of-magma gold. Those abyssal black eyes remained fixed on the intruder, draining the ambient light from the room until the oil lamp snapped and died completely.

"Ethan!" Silas yelled from the back of the room, his voice shaking in the pitch darkness. "What is that pressure? I feel like my heart is about to cave in!"

"Stay down, Silas!" Ethan shouted back.

Suddenly, a sickening crack broke the silence. Solis let out a screech that sounded like grinding tectonic plates, a sound far too massive for his tiny throat. The golden light inside him flared violently, and a fountain of brilliant, metallic golden blood erupted from his mouth, staining the wooden workbench.

"Warning," the crimson text in Ethan’s vision flashed frantically, turning a deep, warning shade of violet. "Latent power overload. The companion's body cannot sustain the soul seal fracture. Total cellular collapse in four minutes. Host vitality dropping."

Ethan groaned, his knees buckling as a sudden, agonizing wave of nausea hit him. The soul bond was dragging him down with the beast. The countdown timer in his eyes dropped instantly, skipping hours in a single second. *Time remaining: 0 hours, 04 minutes.*

"No, no, no," Ethan muttered, dragging himself toward the paralyzed assassin. He grabbed the front of the killer's cloak, pulling himself up until they were nose to nose. "The core. Where is the nearest unrefined fire core? Tell me, or I will let him crush your bones to dust right now!"

"The… the third district," the assassin stammered, his eyes rolling back in pure terror as Solis let out another pained, low growl. "Merchant… Malek's vault. He has… a corrupted core from the volcanic borders. It is there! Please… break the spell!"

Ethan did not answer. He drove his fist into the assassin’s jaw, knocking the frozen man out cold. The moment the killer lost consciousness, the oppressive gravity well snapped shut. The assassin crashed heavily to the floor like a sack of rocks.

"Silas, bind his hands and legs!" Ethan ordered, snatching his leather satchel from the floor. He lunged toward the workbench and carefully scooped Solis into his arms. The beast’s skin was blistering hot now, burning Ethan’s palms through his sleeves. "I have to go. Now."

"Ethan, you cannot run in this storm!" Silas called out, the sound of his heavy ropes rustling in the dark. "The guards will see you!"

"If I stay here, we both burn," Ethan shouted over his shoulder, throwing the door open. "Keep that rat alive until I get back!"

He sprinted out into the freezing deluge, the icy rain doing nothing to cool the intense heat radiating from the dying dragon in his arms. Every step was pure torture. His lungs felt like they were filled with crushed glass, and his vision was narrowing down to a tiny, dark tunnel. The violet numbers in his eyes were ticking down ruthlessly. *Three minutes. Two minutes.*

"Keep breathing, Solis," Ethan hissed through his teeth, tearing through the muddy alleys of the slums. "Do not dare die on me after showing me that power. We are almost there."

He crossed into the third district, his boots splashing through deep puddles of filth. The grand, stone architecture of the black market district loomed ahead, heavily guarded by iron gates and mercenaries. Ethan ignored the main entrance, skidding into the narrow rear alley Silas had mentioned.

There it was. The thin metal grating of the old ventilation duct.

Ethan pulled his hunting dagger, driving the blade into the rusted rivets with manic strength. His hands were bleeding, his skin peeling from the heat of his beast, but he didn't care. He ripped the metal panel away with a loud screech of tearing iron, scrambled through the narrow opening, and tumbled into the dark, stone-walled underbelly of the vault.

The air inside smelled of sulfur and expensive spices. Ethan ran down the corridor, following the ambient heat signature that his soul bond could suddenly track. He reached a heavy, reinforced iron door at the end of the hall. The elemental lock was glowing with a protective blue frost.

"The disc," Ethan gasped, his fingers fumbling in his pocket until he pulled out Silas’s brass key. He slammed it directly into the center of the frosted lock.

The runes on the disc flared a brilliant gold. The frost melted instantly, and the heavy iron door swung open with a slow, grinding groan.

Ethan burst into the underground vault, his eyes scanning the shelves of rare crystals and stolen beast eggs. But his gaze was instantly pulled to the center of the room.

Resting inside a heavy stone pedestal was a jagged, fist-sized crystal that looked like a beating heart of pure, liquid flame. It was the Corrupted Fire Core. It pulsed with a volatile, dangerous energy that turned the air around it into a shifting haze.

But Ethan wasn't alone.

Standing right in front of the pedestal was an overweight merchant in fine silk robes, holding an open velvet box. Next to him was a young man wearing the expensive, silver-trimmed uniform of the Sky-Reach Academy’s upper tier. It was Julian, a wealthy rival student from a prominent branch family, and Asher Crest's regular lapdog.

"What do you mean the price has doubled, Malek?" Julian was snarling, his hand resting on the hilt of his tamer sword. "We agreed on ten thousand gold coins for this core."

"The market is tight, young master Julian," the merchant chuckled, entirely unaware of the intruder behind them. "The Crest family isn't the only one looking for volatile elements this week."

"I don't care about the market," Julian snapped, stepping forward. "Pack it up before I—"

"Step away from the core," Ethan’s voice cut through the vault like a cracked whip.

Both men spun around, their faces twisting in absolute shock as they took in the sight of the soaked, blood-stained, and half-conscious outcast standing in the doorway.

"Vance?" Julian stammered, his eyes widening before a cruel, arrogant sneer overtook his features. "What the hell are you doing here? The guards threw you in the gutter three hours ago."

"I am here for my property," Ethan whispered, his violet countdown hitting the final sixty seconds. "Give me the core, or neither of you leaves this room alive."