Cold. All he felt was nothing but the cold. The same cold he experienced before, when his father imprisoned him in a small shack at winter. He couldn't remember what he did to deserve such cruel punishment, but what he did remembered was the chilling cold prickling his skill and slowly immobilizing his fingers. He remembered how his teeth gritted involuntarily as the cold slowly froze his entire body, embracing him to his eventual demise.

He couldn't remember what happened after he descended from the well. His memory was in a blur and every time he tried to recall it, he gets a piercing pain in his temples.

He opened his eyes and found the nothingness of the dark. The pitch-black veil was all he saw that he thought he was going blind, but no, it was far from it. He thought of suddenly hearing a whisper coming from his mind. It was a faint whisper, so subtle that he thought it was part of his inner voice—it wasn't.

Slowly, the voice became louder and louder. What he thought were whispers, were clearly shouts. It called out to him, desperately pleading for him to listen. Tristam looked around once again, but he was greeted by the same darkness. There was nothing he could see and yet the voice felt as if it was getting close to him.

He wanted to move. He wanted to run away and find safety from it, but he wasn't able to move. He felt his arms and legs outstretched and bound by something that even with his strength, he couldn't budge. He tried a few more times, but it was already obvious that it was too much for him to handle. He ended up panting, his arms and legs sore from his wasted effort.

"TRISTTTAAAAMMM!" The slithery voice shouted right in his ears. "LEEET MEEE INNN…" It begged.

He felt afraid and threatened by the voice. His mind was filled with the stories that Lord Prestonheim told him while he was away on a mission. He told him of the creatures crawling out from the bowels of the earth. The nightmarish monsters that even his great commander thought was nothing more than a bedtime story, became real in front of his very eyes.

Just the thought of it made his skin crawl. He desperately tried to yank his way out of the invisible bindings, but to no avail. The loud whispers went on again, this time in a gibberish horrific voice. The guttural sound suddenly filled his mind chanting his name repeatedly.

Tristam gritted his teeth as the whispers slowly manifested into a throbbing headache. He had to think of a solution for this mental attack and he had to make it fast. He calmed himself, breathing deep while trying to focus his mind on the training he had with his silver-haired commander.

He recalled about the learnings he had with Lord Prestonheim while he trained under him in his estate. He remembered the stern look of the old man's face as he was taught with the Prestonheim's extensive knowledge for combat and magic, including defense against psychic attacks. It was one of the reasons his Commander was known for. His unwavering heart and mind at the face of adversity earning him the title of the Lion.

"Focus, Tristam!" He said to himself. "Focus!"

He tried muting the buzzing whispers with great effort using the meditation technique Lord Prestonheim personally taught him. With his great exertion of willpower, he was able to silence the noise in his mind. He opened his eyes but still, the veil of darkness covered his surroundings. Tristam felt something moving from behind him. A gust of wind passed to his side and the voice had manifested physically.

"A Dhampiir!" Tristam suspected.

He tried recalling what his Commander told him about those creatures. Those ghastly demons were said to fear the light. Mustering his strength, he mumbled a spell.

"Bright light, descend from the heavens and smile upon the worthy!" He chanted.

A flash of bright light suddenly appeared in front of him enveloping the darkness with its bright shine. He looked around and saw a huge empty room. The floor was filled with bones of both humans and beasts of unknown species. Little centipedes and maggots crawled on the floor, peeping from the skulls of the fallen, warning him of his fate.

He curiously looked at his binding and was horrified to see sinew and guts wrapping tightly on both his hands and feet. The grisly rope suddenly kept tightening, hurting his wrist and ankles. It tightened so bad, that he feared his slightest movement might cost him his arms and feet. He stood still and tried thinking of another way to get out of his situation before it naturally kills him.

As quickly as the light shone, it faded right away before he could survey the area any better. The darkness engulfed the light with such gluttony it also ate the sliver of hope he had. Darkness won over his light and right now, there was nothing more than despair for him.

Tristam feared for his life. It was the first time for such a long time that he feared that kind of primal fear. It was the same fear he felt when his father pointed a sword towards his neck on the little mistakes he did. He could remember his father's remorseless eyes, stabbing his soul and instilling the fear that traumatized him after all those years.

He realized it was the end for him and he didn't like it. He fought his way out it once again, yanking himself out while chanting magical spells but all of those options were rendered useless. Finally, he surrendered to his despair. Drowning further into the depths of his worst fear, his death.

He wasn't ready for it—not just yet. He didn't want to die because he hadn't paid his commander's kindness yet. The silver-haired commander who had saved him from the clutches of his father. The same Commander who lend his time and knowledge to hone him to become a better person, a better man than what his father was. The man whom he considered as his father more than his real one could ever be.

"H-help!" Tristam desperately called out. "H-help me! Please, anyone!" His voice shivered.

He called out at the top of his lungs, but no one answered. His throat sored as he continued to shout at the top of his lungs, but no one came.

"Please…not like this…" He said in a tired voice. "I don't want to die! Not like this…not yet."

"Tristam!" The voice echoed throughout the darkness. "Tristam…can you hear me, Tristam?" The voice boomed.

"W-who are you?" Tristam asked as he felt shivers down his spine.

The voice did not answer.

"W-where are you?!" Tristam desperately called out the voice while hopelessly yanking the chain from his wrist. "I…I can hear you! Help me, please!"

But there was nothing, only silence.

Tristam broke down in tears as he tried to call him out once again, begging for him to hear him and help him out from that miserable place. But no one answered. He pleaded and prayed to the gods but there was nothing, until—

"Please, anyone!" He begged. "I-I will give you anything, just let me go! Let me live! I need to pay him back! I need to serve my commander! Please…" His voice faded from all his effort.

He cried in the dark. It was truly the end for him. As it was, he knew it was going to be a slow  and agonizing death. A miserable death that he never wanted and never deserved.

"Knights should die by the blade defending the citizens of Arteria. Remember that Tristam."He recalled his conversation with Lord Prestonheim during his installation to knighthood.

"Please…" He mumbled. "Please, anyone! I will—"

"Did you say, you'll do anything to live?" The voice came back once again.

Tristam was too numb to feel anything at that point. He realized the dark was playing tricks on him. He was wallowed in despair. But he still took a gander at what the voice asked.

"Yes…any…thing…" His voice faded once again.

"Very well," The voice said.

Suddenly green flames appeared in front of him, and a disfigured shadow started to approach him. Tristam wasn't able to take a good look at it but everything felt like a fever dream. Its glowing red eyes met with his. Its protruding horn and appearance were supposed to instill some fear, but he never felt a thing. There was only a warm feeling of relief.

"You…will be my vessel." The darkness faded and the shadow finally revealed its face.                          ____________________

This chapter is dedicated to the one, the only Elie_Cinders! The lady who tirelessly reads and edits my work. She helped me a lot in molding my writing style and I cannot thank her enough! Thanks, Tomomo.