The Dread of Damned

Everyone watched with bated breath as their gazes turned back to me. I stood in the center of the platform, unmoving, as the elders walked forward, their robes billowing with each deliberate step.

They stopped just in front of me. Then, as if summoned by an unseen force, a box materialized in the hands of the elder on the right. He held it with reverence before presenting it to the elder in the middle.

The middle elder carefully unlatched the ornate box and reached inside, lifting out a silver glass that gleamed under the ethereal glow of the moon above.

With solemnity, he extended the glass toward me. I raised my hands, taking hold of it, its cool surface pressing against my palms.

Then, he reached into the box once more and retrieved a small vase.

It was silver, simple yet elegant, its pale surface adorned with dark silver patterns that pulsed with an almost imperceptible rhythm. Enchantment radiated from it, a power so potent that I could feel it seeping into the air, humming like a whisper of an ancient spell.

"This," the elder spoke, his voice carrying across the silent platform, "is a drop of pure moonlight, drawn from the River of Lunar Moon."

He held the vase with extreme care, as though it were the most priceless treasure in existence.

"It takes ten thousand years of continuous refinement—ten millennia of distilling the moon's purest light and essence—to form a single drop of this," he continued, his voice laced with reverence.

A hush fell over the assembly as he turned his piercing gaze upon me.

"We, the Council of the Lunar Cycle, have devoted countless centuries to a singular task."

"To form and safeguard these drops." His words resonated with unwavering conviction. "And to test each successor with this single, sacred essence."

His eyes locked onto mine.

"Regardless of the outcome of this test, you will be the rightful heir—the future ruler of House Aestherisin. But only those who succeed in absorbing and refining the moon's essence can claim the title of Successor of the Moon." His voice dropped lower, carrying a weight of gravity that pressed upon my chest.

"Hold out your hand, Two Hundred and Fifty-Ninth Successor of House Aestherisin."

Gripping the silver glass in one hand, I extended the other without hesitation.

The elder on the left stepped forward, revealing a silver bone sword. A sharp whisper cut through the air as he made a precise incision on my wrist.

Silver blood welled from the wound, glistening under the moonlight as it poured into the glass. Essence churned wildly inside me at the release of my blood, but I remained still, my breath steady, as the vessel slowly filled. Only then did I let the wound seal itself shut.

The middle elder spoke, his voice shifting into a hushed, melodic chant in a language unknown to me. The words carried an ancient power, laced with something beyond essence itself. Then, with great care, he lifted the vase and pulled out the cork sealing its mouth.

The moment the bottle was opened, an overwhelming energy erupted outward.

Like a tidal wave crashing against a rocky shore, it surged through the hall in a violent, unfathomable force.

I braced myself, reinforcing my body with essence as the silver-blue energy flooded the space. Even though the audience was seated far from the stage, the force of the wave reached them. A shimmering barrier had been erected in anticipation, but even so, the sheer aftershock sent those in the front rows hurtling backward.

Essence became volatile in the air, crackling like a storm. I could feel it—everyone had to summon their own reserves just to remain upright. Even the elders stood rigid, their robes fluttering against the unseen pressure.

The energy was unlike anything I had known before. It was silver, tinged with an eerie blue hue, yet it was distinctly separate from the essence I had always wielded. And yet… something about it felt deeply familiar.

The elder tilted the vase.

A single drop of glowing blue liquid fell.

It did not plummet like an ordinary liquid but instead seemed to hover in midair, suspended in time, as if resisting its own descent. Then, slowly, it drifted downward and touched the surface of the blood-filled glass.

The instant the drop met the silver blood, a violent reaction ignited.

The liquid inside the glass boiled like molten lava, roiling with silver and blue waves of power. The energy pulsed outward, crashing in rhythmic bursts that sent fresh shockwaves through the air.

Just holding the glass became a trial of its own. I tightened my grip, calling upon every ounce of my essence to keep the vessel steady.

"Drink."

The command rang in unison from all three elders.

I did not hesitate.

I tipped the glass to my lips and drank.

Boiling liquid flooded my mouth.

The silver essence, the enigmatic blue energy, and something else—something ancient and unrelenting—waged a brutal war in each drop as it seared down my throat. My insides burned as if molten metal coursed through me. My essence surged to heal the damage, but the blue energy repelled it, like two opposing forces locked in a deadly struggle.

The elders watched in anticipation, their eyes gleaming with something akin to awe.

The pain intensified. The blood, now suffused with the foreign power, spread through my veins like wildfire. My body twisted in agony, but I did not let it show.

Organs ruptured.

Bones cracked.

Veins burst apart.

Silver and blue blood poured from my nose, mouth, ears, and eyes. The battle raged inside me, tearing me apart even as my essence fought desperately to restore me.

But there was no harmony. No balance.

My essence was vast and pure, yet the blue energy was a tyrant—a conqueror—forcing itself into my very core, invading with unrelenting force. It shoved against my silver essence, pressing it back, attempting to claim dominion.

My vision blurred. My head throbbed as the light of the moon above intensified.

Then, like a silent answer to an unspoken plea, the moonlight descended.

A pure, silvery radiance washed over the arena, illuminating everything as if the night had transformed into an argent dawn. The light condensed around me, coiling and surging with an undeniable will.

And then—it entered me.

A third power. A force beyond the warring silver and blue. The very essence of the moon itself.

The moonlight did not fight. It did not struggle for dominance.

Instead, it united them.

Like a magnet drawing two opposing poles together, the moonlight wove itself between the warring energies, pulling them into harmony.

The blue power. The silver essence. The pure moonlight.

They no longer clashed but swirled together, merging into something new. Something absolute.

Silence filled the hall.

Every breath was held. Every gaze was fixed upon me.

After an immeasurable span of time, I felt it. The transformation was complete. My insides were whole again, yet profoundly changed. The energy within me was no longer two opposing forces—it was one.

A power purer than essence. As condensed and potent as the tyrant blue energy, yet as calm and loyal as my own.

I opened my eyes.

The moonlight receded.

And before me, the three elders fell to their knees.

"All hail the Moon Successor!"

Their voices thundered as one.

They remained bowed for a long moment before rising and turning toward the vast audience, whose collective breath still hung in the air.

"Today," they proclaimed, "we present to you the Crown Prince of House Aestherisin. The Two Hundred and Fifty-Ninth Successor of the Silver Throne."

A pause. Their gazes swept the crowd.

"And the Second Successor of the Moon."

The words carried weight, heavy with history, thick with reverence.

And then—

"ALL HAIL THE MOON SUCCESSOR!"

The arena erupted.

"ALL HAIL HOUSE AESTHERISIN!"

The sheer force of their voices sent tremors through the ground.

The Forest of Everdying stirred, as if answering the call. Birds took flight, animals roared and bellowed, and all across the vast expanse, the echoes of their voices filled the sky.

I looked around.

Everyone was kneeling.

Every single one of them.