The shadows flickered as Ma’sal bent his head—but then, when did they not? They were always dancing as he watched, for they were watching him in return with their smoky eyes of roiling mist. These shadows were no different, serpents that licked across his neck and arms as he slowly kneeled in submission. A brief flicker of fear seized him then, but it was quickly snuffed out by but a single thought. For Tsaya, he remembered, and he gathered his nerve once more.

The chamber was barely lit, a massive room shrouded almost entirely by those ever-watching shadows. The sole source of light was but a single flickering fire near the center, around which three hooded men were gathered. The floors, the walls, they were all carved of whatever black material of glass and bone fashioned the exterior of the temple. Tiles of the glossy, surfaceless stone laid out a path towards what seemed to resemble an altar.

“Don’t be afraid.” Tsaya whispered next to him, sensing his fear. “We are with you.” Her voice was enough to dispel his concerns; her touch was enough to send strength back into his limbs. Ma’sal turned, flashing her a small smile before stepping forward. Her face was gentle, her expression soft and full of concern even as she let him go, and he longed to pull back into her embrace instead.

The air was cold, utterly without heat even as he approached the center of the strange altar. The stone was slightly raised, going up three steps to reveal a small brazier fashioned out of a dark metal. A flickering flame sat in a pit carved underneath the dais, dancing eerily in the silence. As he approached, two of the hooded men stepped to the side while the third strode towards him.

“Remove your robes.” hissed out a low voice, rasping with a sensation like sandpaper on silk.

Ma’sal felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, resisting the urge to look back at Tsaya as he slowly took off the worn cloth that clung to his skin. The skin underneath was damp with clammy sweat in spite of the cold, puckered with gooseflesh and covered with too-many days of filth. The Valanese tattoo was harder to make out as his already dark skin grew even more tanned from days of labor, the black ink and scarred pattern fading against his skin.

Leaving his discarded clothing behind him, Ma’sal stepped closer to the brazier. Yet despite being nearly close enough to dip his toes in the fire, he still felt no sensation of its warmth. Instead, his downward gaze was attracted to a gleaming object that sat innocuously in the center of the plate: a small knife.

It lay unassumingly in the brazier, although it seemed to move under the firelight. It was not until a few seconds had passed that Ma’sal realized it was not the knife that danced—instead, there was a pool of something else that was underneath it in the brazier. It was a black puddle, hidden by shadow and obscurity, and it gave him pause as he reached down to grasp the knife. Yet as his hand neared, the liquid seemed to pull away so as not to touch his fingers, the surface rippling oddly.

“Bear your blade before the god.” the hooded priest behind him rasped out, and Ma’sal slowly took the knife into his grasp. It felt like holding ice, chillingly cold and unbelievably smooth. He tried to keep his grip tight, afraid that it might slip out of his hand and tumble to the floor. Bear your blade—it was a moment before he remembered the next step of the ritual.

Offer your vein to Atal. Draw your blood with the blade, so that it falls into his waiting maw, Tsaya had told him. It had seemed simple enough, when his mind had been clouded by her presence and her alluring voice. Now that he was naked and shivering, the blade waiting in his hands, he felt his heart pumping faster and the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Now his thoughts were clear. Now he was shackled by fear.

Do it, he told himself, gritting his teeth. Thrusting his left arm out so that the vein was facing upwards, he saw his dark skin now covered with a glistening sheen was sweat. The knife was even harder to grasp as he brought ti to bear, as he lightly held it over the pulsing vein that throbbed below.

Do it.

Nervously, Ma’sal glanced over his shoulder to see Tsaya behind him, watching. Perhaps it was the trepidation that showed on his face, or perhaps it was merely her kind heart, but she gave him a soft smile and a swift nod. That was all that it took to harden his heart, all that it took to melt away his will.

The knife broke the surface of his skin. Crimson blood spurted out in a sudden spray, coating his chest and dripping down to the tiles below. Pain shot up the limb like a fire, and he felt the knife clatter to the floor as he clutched helplessly at the limb. White light danced across his field of vision as he knelt, watched the scarlet liquid pulse out of him.

He had not noticed as a few drops fell on the brazier when they sprayed out of him, causing the black pool inside to ripple ever slightly. They were innocuous enough, if not for the fact that these ripples grew larger instead of smaller as they traveled outward. Larger and stronger, the black liquid began to churn and froth before finally splashing out of the brazier altogether.

As the strange black fluid struck the tiles on the ground, they abruptly shot upward in a streak of motion, in a column far larger than their size warranted. That blur of black struck his arm, wrapping around the wound with an icy cold touch that made Ma’sal hiss inwards in reflex. Before he could react, it slipped into the wound seemingly of its own volition, pouring into his bloodstream with a frozen sensation.

Ma’sal was too in pain to speak, and so he could do naught be clutch at his arm and kneel on the floor in abhorrence. His veins were slowly turning black as more and more of that liquid flowed into his arm, traveling up through the limb. While it was fortunate that the wound was no longer bleeding, he would have gladly traded that familiar sensation of death for this obscene invasion of his own body. It felt wrong, feeling this alien touch that pulsed with its own heartbeat as it traveled under his skin, inside his own flesh.

Finally, as the last of the shadow slipped into his body, he saw the lips of the wound draw together and close. Inside of him, he could feel the shadow squirming and slithering, seemingly growing used to its new host. It grew more daring with each heartbeat, traveling up his arm and creeping into his chest.

Each breath grew even colder, grew tighter, and he felt his head growing light. His arms, now feeling incredibly weak, struggled to support him as he fell to the ground, panting hard. The floor around him seemed to spin, growing in intensity as he felt the shadow swirling around his lungs, poking and prodding his flesh with an infantile curiousity.

Then, it seemed to strike something crucial, some nerve or some muscle that sent an abrupt flare of agony shooting through his skull. Gasping out in shock and anguish, he could not even register the sensation as he fell prone on the ground, his limb going out from under him. Everything around him seemed to flicker in and out of existence, in between flashes of black and white, and his breathing grew ragged and short.

Desperately, he tried to turn around in his weak position, tried to face Tsaya behind him. His limbs scrabbled uselessly on the smooth tile, the other hooded men watching impassively at his labors. Through a tremendous effort, he managed just barely to turn himself around, his own body screaming at him in a thousand tongues.

Perhaps it was merely his eyes playing tricks on him, or perhaps it was the desperation of his mind, but he saw Tsaya watching him for just a moment, smiling her sweet, soft smile. And then she disappeared where she stood, as if she had been torn out of his vision, leaving nothing but the black wall behind her.

Ma’sal opened his mouth to speak, but unexpectedly his throat was filled with blood. His tongue was unresponsive, his eyes lolling backwards into his head, and he felt the cold touch of the shadow inside him as it wrapped around his heart.

Then there was a flare of pain, and then unconsciousness took him in.