Air. He needed air.
Osiris woke with a violent jerk, gasping like a fish flung onto hot, dry concrete. His back arched, fists clenched, and his eyes were wide and unseeing for a moment—like he wasn't really there. Like whatever he'd seen in that twisted dreamscape still had a hold on him.
Delythera didn't move. She hovered a few feet off the ground, arms crossed, head tilted, watching him flail and thrash with morbid curiosity.
He looked like a starved animal learning to breathe again.
Eventually, he stilled—lungs finally obeying, throat less raw. He dragged in air through clenched teeth, swallowing it like a lifeline. Sweat clung to his skin. His chest rose and fell in heavy, erratic waves.
"How long?" he rasped, voice cracked like shattered glass.
Del gave a slow blink. "Couple of hours. You've got about one left 'til dawn."
He nodded, jaw clenched as he forced his trembling limbs to steady.
Del descended, her bare feet whispering against the scorched forest floor. "I'm surprised, you know," she murmured, eyes glinting like starlight against the night. "You actually absorbed it. Xilack. You crazy little freak—who the hell just slurps that stuff up like it's soup?"
Osiris blinked. Confusion was written across his face like a question he didn't know how to ask.
Del's smirk faltered. "Wait… You don't know what Xilack is, do you?"
"What's Xilack?"
Del's grin faded. She tilted her head, genuinely confused. "You serious? You really don't know?"
His expression didn't change. He wasn't playing.
"Ohhh, sweet summer child." She stared. Then groaned. "You've got to be kidding me. You—ugh. Okay. Sit."
He didn't.
She sighed again. "Fine, stand and die early. I don't care. Look—Xilack is not… it's not just corrupted mana. It's rot. It's decay incarnate. Eroding force that eats away at the soul, the flesh, the divine—everything. Even gods don't mess with it."
She floated in a lazy half-circle around him, watching his expression shift.
"You think you just got lucky pulling in that soul stone?" she asked. "That thing was soaked in Xilack, soaked. I felt it. And your body just… drank it. Like it was meant for you."
Osiris tensed.
"It corrodes anything it touches. Erases memory, soul, essence. Even I don't mess with that crap—and I was literally designed to eat stars."
She stopped in front of him, eyes serious for once. "That stuff doesn't flow. It devours. It's not supposed to be in anyone, let alone absorbed. You…" She leaned in slightly. "You scare me a little."
He didn't respond, too busy clenching and unclenching his fists. He remembered the dream—the throne of bones, the being of void, the chains. But he said nothing.
"Well, since you're in no mood for jokes—" Del backed off, rolling her eyes. "—we'll skip the teasing. But you better not die before giving me that favor. I've got dibs on your weird soul."
Osiris rose slowly, stretching his limbs. No thorn wounds. No visible signs of damage. But his body ached like it had been dragged through the apocalypse.
He raised his hand, and the corrupted energy shimmered around his fingers—sharp, vile, unnatural. Not quite fire. Not quite shadow. A venomous miasma, sleek and coiled like a serpent.
Del watched him test the power, dark purple arcs sizzling in the air. "So, what's the plan?"
"Test it," he muttered.
"Test it?"
"I need to know what it can do."
He turned and walked deeper into the woods.
Del floated behind him silently, eyes narrowing. His aura was jagged now. Violent. She could feel the change.
---
The forest was thick with rotting trees and buzzing life, everything mutated and hostile. The air hummed with mana, but it was sick—like something had twisted the very laws of life out of place. Leaves pulsed. Rocks oozed. The earth itself felt wrong.
It didn't take long to find trouble.
A low growl rumbled through the underbrush like thunder under his feet. Osiris turned just in time to see it crawl into view.
The creature stood taller than a car, hunch-backed and twitching. Its body was a grotesque hybrid—a wolf's muscular frame, bloated with insect segments and twitching fly wings that buzzed violently even as they sagged under their own weight. Its face had too many eyes, and they blinked at him in erratic sequences.
Its breath stank like rotted meat and acid.
Del winced. "What in the Lovecraftian hell is that thing?"
The beast growled and launched forward, wings buzzing like chainsaws.
Osiris didn't move. He raised one hand.
A spear of pure Xilack burst from his palm. It wasn't clean. It looked like writhing black smoke forged into a blade.
He hurled it.
The spear hissed through the air and slammed into the beast's leg.
The creature shrieked. The area around the wound began to melt. Bone sizzled. Fur caught fire.
"Damn," Del whispered. "That's nasty."
The thing moved fast for something so massive. Its front paws were claws—bone-colored, massive, and cracked like dried stone. It pounced with its jaws wide, aiming to crush his skull in a single bite.
Osiris sidestepped, just barely. Its claws raked the earth where he'd stood. His corrupted energy lashed out in a sudden arc, sharp like obsidian blades. It sliced across one of the creature's wings—melting flesh and bone in one go.
It screeched, its many eyes locking onto him with rage.
He didn't wait for it to recover.
He pushed forward, energy coiling around his arms like serrated tentacles. He struck again—this time at the legs, aiming for movement. The energy ate through skin, and the monster howled.
But then it did something unexpected.
It leapt.
Not at him—over him.
The wings buzzed furiously, lifting the thing a few feet off the ground despite the damage. And then it crashed down right behind him, sweeping its tail—now covered in barbed hooks—across his back.
Osiris grunted, forced forward by the impact. Blood dripped from where a barb scraped him.
"Tch."
He rolled into a crouch and touched the wound.
Already healing. Fast.
He didn't know if it was Xilack or adrenaline. Either way, he wasn't about to waste the opportunity.
The wolf-fly lunged again. This time, he didn't dodge.
He ran toward it.
It opened its jaws—and he shoved his corrupted energy directly inside, shaping it like a spike as he flung it into the thing's throat.
Boom.
A blast of dark light erupted inside its mouth, splintering teeth and bursting eyeballs.
It reeled, thrashing wildly. Osiris dodged to the left, then right, slashing at its underbelly with precise strikes. He wasn't wasting movement. He was testing.
Testing how fast the energy burned. Testing how deep it could cut. Testing himself.
He dropped under its flailing limb and drove a full spike of Xilack directly into its heart—if it had one.
The beast froze mid-roar.
Then crumbled.
Not in chunks. Not with blood and gore. But with silent disintegration. The way paper burns from the center. The corrupted energy rotted it from within, leaving behind ash and whispers.
Osiris stood over the dust, chest rising and falling in slow rhythm. His eyes glowed faintly from the inside, like a lantern lit with shadows.
Del floated down behind him.
"...Okay," she said softly. "That was impressive."
He didn't answer.
She watched his back, noting how tense his shoulders were, how rigid his posture. Something inside him had changed. She could feel it. Taste it in the air.
This wasn't just power.
It was purpose.
And maybe a little madness.