Reincarnated as an Apocalyptic Catalyst-Chapter 41: The Things We Do for Love

The dreams started innocently enough, though I couldn't seem to make out what was actually happening. It was more like a series of half-distinguishable shapes and figures. I could see people walk by, but I couldn't seem to make out their faces or features. On top of that, there seemed to be a symphony of whispers, disembodied voices I couldn't quite place. Then, like a crack of thunder, everything shifted.

The shadows began creeping in at the edges of my dreams, black tendrils seeping into the soft light like spilled ink. Before they reached me, I could feel them in my mind, clawing and raking at my will, hemorrhaging my control, bleeding me dry of resistance.

"No..." I choked out, my subconscious pushing back against the tide of darkness I told myself would never again consume me. The tendrils thickened, writhing and coiling, slithering toward me like a deadly serpent, ravenous for me, body and mind. My surroundings dissolved, the dreamscape replaced with the familiar yet strangely foreign void.

I bolted upright—or at least I thought I did. The bed was gone. The room was gone. All that remained was the endless darkness.

"Morgana..." Her name slipped from my lips like a curse.

The abyss shook in response, she was definitely here, I could feel her, that oppressive power crushing me from all sides. The shadows closed in, the whispers growing louder, each word spoken was a blow against my psyche.

"No," I repeated, louder this time as I planted my feet in place and fought back. "Not tonight!"

The darkness pulled back for but a moment, as if in surprise. I seized the opportunity, summoning the will I'd tirelessly developed each and every night. My own darkness struck out and it appeared some of this power was still under my control. It twisted and warped as I exerted my influence.

"You brought me back, but you can't force me down a path!" I shouted, forcing the void to bend around me like waves crashing around a boulder. My power tore and lashed out, severing the serpents that struck at me in a desperate attempt to pull me back under their control.

The abyss buckled and shrieked in that alien language, the whispers turning to agonized wails. The tendrils recoiled, and for the first time, I felt like I was winning.

But then, her voice rang out, clear and thunderous, cutting through the chaos.

"LUCIAN!"

The sheer force of her rage shattered my concentration, everything I had mustered was like leaves in the wind. The abyss surged forward with more strength than I could have ever comprehended, engulfing me before I could even react.

The ground disappeared beneath my feet, and I was falling—falling into a bottomless pit. Her laughter echoed around me, sharp and cold, as the void swallowed me whole.

When I finally landed, it was not gentle. The impact jarred my senses, and the first thing I noticed was the air, thick with the metallic tang of blood and the stench of decay.

She had won, again.

I took my time adjusting as I lay on the floor, thankfully still in one piece. The cold, damp stone beneath me was grounding for more than the fact that I was the ground. It offered me some semblance of stability, contrasting my weightless fall into the nothingness of the void. I had materialized here as I would materialize anywhere in Morgana's domain, and yet I still felt as though I slammed into the ground from that impossible height. I forced myself to roll onto my side, groaning. My hand landed in something warm and sticky. Blood... nice. I guess this was the ambiance Morgana seemed to favor when she was feeling particularly displeased.

I pushed myself to my knees, blinking as my vision adjusted. The flickering torchlight did little in the area of lumination, but it was enough. The light revealed what could only be described as a medieval torture chamber designed by someone who thought the concept of subtlety was for cowards. Chains hung from the ceiling, their ends hooked and rusted. Tables lined with cruel instruments gleamed under the flickering light. A pool of blood—not stains, a pool. Seriously, it looked to be an appropriate depth for swimming—sat undisturbed, dead center of the room.

"You've outdone yourself this time," I muttered under my breath.

"Lucian," Morgana's voice snapped, likely as sharp as the crack of the whip mounted on the wall behind her.

I looked up and saw her descending a staircase at the far end of the room. All of her frilly, classy, seductive attire she usually wore was gone, replaced with something far more menacing. Dark leather armor hugged her form, the edges reinforced with blackened steel. A crimson sash cut across her waist, and an unsettling obsidian dagger hung at her hip. I gave it a double take, and was fairly confident it was made of solid obsidian–save for the handle that is. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes burning with fury that made my stomach twist despite my own rivaling feelings of animosity.

"I was wondering when you'd call," I said, my voice steady despite the fact that was in one hell of a bad spot. "Miss me?"

"Miss you?" she hissed, her heeled boots–okay, some of her previous fashion sense made it through–struck the stone floor with the force of–

"A fucking Rhino, Lucian, really? If you thought I was displeased before, you describe me as another creature like that and just see what happens." She strode forward, striking me in the face with the back of her hand.

"No, Lucian, I did not miss you. What I did miss was the progress you were making. You've been nothing but a shadow of the potential I gave you. Do you even understand what's at stake?"

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She stopped a few feet from me, her presence dominating even before I rose to my feet, brushing myself off in what I hoped passed for nonchalance.

"Oh, I understand," I said, leaning casually against a blood-soaked table, trying not to grimace at the squelch of the sticky mess every time I moved my body. "You want me to play your little puppet, dance to your tune while you pull the strings. Sorry if I haven't been the most enthusiastic about that arrangement."

Her eyes narrowed to slits, and for a moment, I thought she might strike me again. Instead, she took a slow, measured breath, that did nothing to cool the heat of her glare.

"You think this is all just a silly game?" Her voice dropped to a rumble. "Do you think I chose you for fun? For sport? The longer you flounder, the closer the scales tip toward those arrogant bastards that keep hunting you, and screwing with my power."

"You don't see the problem," I shot back, feeling the anger rising despite my better judgment. "You didn't choose me. You forced me. Dragged me into this–if not a game, then what?– feud of yours and then act surprised when I'm not eager to play."

"I, brought you back, I gave you a purpose," she snarled. "Without me, you would be nothing. A forgotten soul. Dead. Buried. Rotting in some nameless grave."

"Yeah, well, sometimes that doesn't sound so bad," I said, crossing my arms. It was a lie, but a convincing one if the flicker of hesitation in her expression was anything to go by.

Morgana's lips pressed into a thin line, her fists clenching at her sides. The room seemed to darken as her rage intensified--the shadows crawling toward me like vipers.

"You will not defy me again," she said, her voice as cold as ice and as sharp as broken glass. "The next time you hesitate, the next time you falter, I will ensure you feel the weight of your failure."

The shadows surged forward, wrapping around my ankles and pulling me to my knees. They tightened like a vice, squeezing until I could barely breathe.

"Do I make myself clear, Lucian?" she demanded, looming over me like a stormcloud.

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to meet her gaze despite the crushing pressure. "Do what you want, I'm done," I spat in defiance.

She wasn't angry anymore as her face scrunched together and she pinched the bridge of her nose. "I tried the carrot, and it's clear that you cannot be reasoned with rationally. Now for the stick.

The room shifted again, the dungeon dissolving into a haze of light and muted colors. Before I could fully process what was happening, a new scene appeared before me. It was surreal—students dressed in robes, a sprawling classroom lined with shelves of ancient tomes. The air itself seemed to shimmer with magic, though I could only sense it from this detached perspective.

And then, there she was. Mara.

She sat near the center of the room, her auburn hair pulled back into a loose braid, her posture was straight but not rigid, her face intensely focused as she scribbled notes into a fancy notebook. Despite everything, despite the months of separation, she looked... peaceful.

A lump formed in my throat and my chest tight, but it wasn't from shadows clawing at me or Morgana's aura. It was just, Mara, she had this ability to remind me of what I'd been fighting for, even when I wanted to give up.

A flicker of warmth spread through me, a brief moment of reprieve from the suffocating void Morgana had plunged me into. It was like catching a glimpse of sunlight in the middle of a blizzard.

But then I glanced to my side, toward Morgana who stood unnervingly still, her usual elegance replaced with a cold and unfeeling gaze as she studied my every reaction. She held something small and organic—a human heart. It pulsed faintly, black veins webbing across its surface like cracks in stone.

"What are you doing?" I asked, though my voice being the broken whisper that it was, revealed my subconscious theory. "Don't. Please."

Morgana's lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile, her fingers tightening around the heart.

On the screen, Mara flinched. Her quill froze mid-word. Her expression twisted, her brows knitting together as her hand flew to her chest. She gasped, her body shuddering violently.

"Morgana, stop!" I shouted, stepping toward her, only to feel some magical force locking me in place.

She ignored me, her sharp nails digging into the heart as it pulsed faster.

In the vision before me, Mara collapsed from her chair, her notebook clattering to the floor as chaos erupted around her. Students scrambled, their mouths moving, but no sound reached me. A man—perhaps the professor—rushed to her side, his hands glowing with magic as he tried to discern what was happening, to no avail.

"Morgana, I swear to everything, stop!" My voice cracked with desperation.

The vision zoomed closer, focusing on Mara's face. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown with terror. Her lips trembled as they formed my name, over and over again. Lucian. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks.

My heart threatened to tear itself apart.

Morgana turned to me, her expression utterly devoid of pity, yet tinged with the faintest trace of amusement. "You've been so resistant, my dear Lucian. It's almost as if you've forgotten the stakes. Shall we see what happens if I give this one final squeeze?"

"No!" I roared, thrashing against the invisible chains that bound me. "I'll do it! I'll do what you want, just... just stop this! Let her go!"

Her eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the room was silent except for the pulse of the heart in her hand. Slowly, her lips curved into an even wider smile—not the seductive grin she often wore, but something that reflected her absolute victory.

"Say it again," she commanded, her voice dripping with finality. "Swear it to me. Pledge yourself to my will, and be fully bound to my wishes under penalty of Mara's death."

"I swear," I said, my voice breaking. "I'll obey you, Morgana. Just let her go. Please."

The shift in her demeanor was unervingly instantaneous. The fury in her eyes calmed, her posture relaxed, and the energy in the air dissipated like a gentle breeze after an especially devastating hurricane. She released the heart, letting it dissolve into a wisp of shadows that disappeared into her palm.

The vision of Mara stilled. She lay on the floor, chest heaving but alive. The professor cradled her, lips moving in what I could only assume were words of reassurance. I could still see the fear in her eyes, but the agony had subsided.

"Good," Morgana purred, stepping closer to me with tender features, like a parent who had to reluctantly discipline their child. She reached out, brushing her fingers running through my hair, though I flinched away. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

I glared at her, hatred simmering just beneath the surface, but I knew better than to speak.

"As a token of my... appreciation," she continued, stepping back, "I'll grant you the gift you would have had a long time ago if you just played along. A way to extend your reach, and allow you to accomplish the next phase of my plan."

She raised her hand, and shadows coalesced in her palm, forming a writhing, shifting mass. It looked much like me, or what I assumed I looked like in my parasite form.

"This," she said, her voice laced with pride, "is your legacy. A near-perfect copy of yourself, bound by your will yet independent enough to adapt, to grow. These... children, let's call them, will spread far and wide, embedding themselves in this world as you see fit. They will evolve. They will thrive. And above all, they will carry out my will first and foremost."

The shadowy creature reached out to me, its shape twisting toward me as if seeking my approval.

I stared at it, my stomach churning with unease. "What... what exactly do you want me to do with it?"

"Oh, you'll figure it out," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "Consider it a tool, a weapon, a companion. Whatever suits your needs."

The creature leapt from her hand to mine, its form surprisingly warm and solid as it coiled around my wrist like a living bracelet. I wanted to rip it off, to hurl it into the void, but her gaze was burning into me and I wasn't going to taunt her any longer.

"You've made the right choice, Lucian," Morgana said, her tone tender. "Now, rest. You'll need your strength for what's to come."

Before I could respond, the darkness swallowed me whole, and I fell back into the emptiness.