Chapter 12
The Serpent's Coil
Bret's dark magic begins to respond to his will, but with a terrifying sentience. He learns to channel its destructive potential, attracting Daved's ire.
The air in the hidden chamber thrummed, a low, vibrating hum that felt more like a pulse than a sound. It was the hum of power, raw and untamed, and it emanated from me. The obsidian shards scattered across the stone floor were no longer inert fragments; they writhed, miniature shadows coiling and uncoiling with a life of their own. My breath hitched, a ragged sound in the oppressive silence. This was it. The moment I’d both craved and dreaded.
A tendril of darkness, thicker than smoke but as solid as iron, snaked from my fingertips. It tasted the air, a phantom tongue exploring the dust motes dancing in the faint light filtering from above. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the abyss that was beginning to stir within me. It wasn’t just a power anymore; it was a presence, a hungry entity that pulsed in time with my own desperate will.
"Come on," I whispered, the words a dry rasp. "Answer me."
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