**Morning — Three Years After Umbral Hollow**
Lysara is in the library again.
This isn't surprising—she's in the library most mornings, surrounded by stacks of research that would bury a normal person. But this morning, there's something different about her. An energy. An urgency.
She finds me in the training yard where Kaela and I are running drills with Master Dren.
"I need to talk to you," Lysara says, not bothering with pleasantries. "Both of you. Now."
Master Dren exchanges a look with me. "Amaki, Fireborn—take a water break. Report back in ten minutes."
We follow Lysara to the library's private research section, the restricted area where she's been working on curse integration theory. The table is covered with dozens of texts, charts, magical diagrams, and something else—something that makes my skin prickle.
Fresh void corruption residue, preserved in a magical containment crystal.
"Where did you get that?" I ask immediately.
"From here." Lysara pulls out a worn leather journal. "I found this in the restricted archives. It belonged to one of the original curse researchers from two hundred years ago. Someone who documented encounters with void-corrupted individuals before they turned fully monstrous."
She opens to a page marked with careful elven script. The drawings are detailed, precise, clinical. And chilling.
"This researcher identified a pattern," Lysara continues, her usual tsundere sharpness replaced with pure academic passion. "People with integrated curses—like you—reach critical stability points at specific ages. At age ten, age thirteen, age seventeen, and age twenty. If the integration destabilizes at any of these points, the results are catastrophic."
Kaela leans forward. "What kind of catastrophic?"
"Full consumption by the curse. Complete loss of humanity. Transformation into something the researcher called a 'void beacon'—a creature that attracts void corruption like a beacon attracts ships." Lysara's silver eyes meet mine. "According to this, you're approaching your first critical threshold. Age ten is in approximately two weeks."
My stomach drops.
"How certain are you?" I ask quietly.
"Seventy-eight percent. Maybe eighty. The research is old and the notation style is archaic, but the mathematical patterns are consistent." She takes a breath. "Which means we have two weeks to either stabilize your integration further or—"
"Or what?"
"Or prepare for catastrophic cascade failure." She says it clinically, but I can see the fear beneath her analytical exterior. "Your curse could consume you completely. And if that happens while you're in proximity to civilians..."
She doesn't need to finish the thought.
"We need to tell the council," Kaela says immediately. "We need to tell your parents, Miren, Seraphine—"
"We need to test it first," I interrupt. "If we go to the council with this without evidence, they'll panic. They might try to imprison me or send me to the Spires for study."
Lysara nods. "That's why I came to you first. I have a proposal."
She pulls out another document—a formal request, already written and signed by Elder Stoneheart.
"I submitted this three days ago," Lysara explains. "A request for an authorized expedition to investigate void corruption patterns in the eastern territories. The council approved it this morning. They want three junior scouts—specifically us—to conduct field research and report back."
"You planned this," I say, understanding dawning.
"I planned a legitimate reason to get you away from the village, into a controlled environment where we can test your stability under stress without endangering civilians," Lysara corrects. "If your integration holds through a mission under real conditions, we have data suggesting you'll be stable through the critical threshold."
"And if it doesn't hold?" Kaela asks.
"Then we're far enough from the village that any cascade failure won't harm anyone except potentially us."
Kaela looks at me. "Your choice. This is your body, your curse."
I think about two weeks. About the critical threshold approaching. About potentially losing myself to the void entirely.
"When do we leave?" I ask.
**Preparations**
The next week is a blur of preparation. We gather supplies with the precision of people who understand that mistakes in the field can be fatal. Lysara insists on packing extensive medical supplies despite Seraphine's assurance that nothing can medically help a void cascade. Kaela checks and rechecks her weapons with warrior's thoroughness. I practice curse control exercises obsessively, trying to strengthen the integration through sheer force of will.
We don't tell anyone except Master Dren, who immediately understands what's really happening.
"You're testing something," he says, not phrasing it as a question.
"We're conducting authorized research," Lysara responds carefully.
"You're testing whether his integration is stable," Master Dren corrects. "And you're doing it away from the village for a reason. So whatever you discover, the village won't be in danger."
I nod slowly.
He studies me for a long moment. "The curse will test you. Real stress brings real danger. When you're out there, in actual peril, it will push you to use more power, to rely on it more heavily. That's when integration failures happen."
"I know."
"Do you?" He steps closer. "Because knowing intellectually is different from understanding it in your bones. Out there, when you're afraid or desperate or fighting for your life, the curse won't whisper anymore. It'll scream. And you have to be able to hold firm anyway."
"I will."
"I hope so. Because if you can't, three people I care about will be in tremendous danger."
**The Eastern Territories**
We leave at dawn on the eighth day.
The eastern territories are beautiful in a way that makes me uneasy. The ley lines here are unstable, flickering between bright silver and sickly purple. The corruption is present but not overwhelming—it's like the land is holding its breath, waiting for something.
Lysara has set up a research camp near a site of significant void corruption—a place where the barrier between the natural world and the void seems thin. She has instruments for measuring magical residue, for detecting void manifestations, for recording data about corruption spread patterns.
And she has tests. Carefully designed tests meant to push my curse control to its limits while monitoring everything.
The first test is meditation under stress. I sit in the center of a void corruption zone while Lysara measures my mental stability and curse integration levels. My body wants to react to the corruption—to embrace it, to merge with it. The curse wants to expand, to consume, to become one with the void that's calling to it.
But I hold. I hold through an hour of sitting still while my entire being screams at me to move, to act, to surrender to the hunger.
When it's done, Lysara checks her instruments. "Integration held at ninety-one percent stability. That's acceptable."
The second test is combat simulation. Kaela fights me while I try to maintain curse control. It's harder than meditation—there's adrenaline, there's fear, there's the legitimate instinct to survive combat. Each time Kaela's blade comes at me, the curse wants to respond with overwhelming force. Each time I use just enough to defend, I'm fighting it.
By the end of the sparring session, we're both exhausted. But I held. The curse didn't break free.
"Ninety-three percent stability," Lysara announces. "Better than the meditation test."
The third test comes on day four.
We're packing camp when Kaela suddenly goes rigid. "Do you feel that?"
The corruption around us has intensified. The ley lines have gone completely purple. And in the distance, something is moving.
Void beasts. At least three of them, and they're heading directly toward our position.
"Get the equipment!" Lysara shouts, already moving toward the camp supplies.
But they're coming too fast. We're not going to have time to pack everything and run. We're going to have to fight.
This isn't a controlled test anymore. This is real danger.
The curse explodes outward.
**Real Stakes**
The beasts emerge from the corruption like nightmares made flesh. They're smaller than the ones we fought in Verdwood, but faster, more coordinated. And there are three of them coming from different angles.
"Formation!" Kaela shouts, her warrior's instincts taking over.
We move automatically into the three-person defensive formation Master Dren drilled into us. Kaela takes the front, her blade flashing. Lysara positions to the side, her elven magic creating barriers. I position at the back, ready to support with curse power.
But one of the beasts breaks through Kaela's defense.
It lunges at Lysara, who's distracted setting up a magical barrier. The creature's jaws open wide, void energy dripping from its teeth.
I move without thinking.
The curse erupts, dark energy carrying me across the distance faster than should be possible. I intercept the beast just as it's about to strike, my shadow-reinforced arms catching it mid-lunge.
For a moment, we're locked together—my curse power against the beast's void corruption.
And that's when I feel it.
The curse wants to consume the beast. Wants to merge with it, to absorb its void energy, to expand itself. The hunger is overwhelming, all-consuming. The beast is made of the same fundamental force as the curse, and they recognize each other.
The curse screams that we can be whole if I just let go. If I just surrender to the merger, I could become something greater.
*Join us,* the curse whispers. *Merge with the void. Be complete.*
"Ren!" Kaela's voice cuts through the temptation.
I focus on her—on Kaela's fierce amber eyes, on the determination in her stance, on the fact that she's counting on me to hold.
I push the beast away instead of consuming it. Use just enough power to injure, not enough to merge.
The curse screams in frustration.
Lysara's magic finds the creature's weak point, and it collapses. Kaela finishes it with a precise strike.
The other two beasts are already retreating—they can sense that this fight is lost. They vanish back into the corruption without looking back.
For a moment, we just breathe.
"Your integration," Lysara says quietly. "It almost failed just now."
"But it didn't."
"No. It didn't." She checks her instruments with shaking hands. "Stability at the moment of crisis dropped to seventy-one percent. Lowest we've measured. But you held. You consciously chose not to merge with the void despite the curse's pressure."
"What does that mean?" Kaela asks.
"It means," Lysara says slowly, "that Ren's integration isn't fragile. It's strengthened by conscious will. The more deliberately he chooses control, the more stable it becomes."
I look at my hands—they're glowing faintly with shadow energy. But they're still my hands. Still under my control.
"The critical threshold," I say. "What happens now?"
"We'll continue monitoring. But I think..." Lysara pauses, gathering her thoughts. "I think you're going to survive it. The question is how well."
**The Return**
We return to Verdwood five days later, and Elder Stoneheart is waiting for us.
"Report," he commands.
Lysara delivers a carefully prepared presentation about void corruption patterns and research findings. It's all true—but it's not the real story.
"Excellent work," Stoneheart says. "The council is pleased. There's talk of making this a regular mission—quarterly expeditions to monitor corruption spread. You three would lead them."
Officially, we're scouts now. Researchers. People the council trusts with real missions.
That night, on our favorite rooftop, Kaela and I sit watching the ley lines pulse overhead.
"You almost lost yourself," she says quietly.
"Almost. But I didn't."
"Because I called your name?"
"Because you were there," I correct. "Because I knew you were counting on me. Because I had something to choose to remain for."
She takes my hand. At ten years old, the gesture should feel innocent. But there's something in the way she holds it—something that feels like a promise.
Lysara appears silently, settling on my other side.
"Your integration improved measurably over the mission," she says. "The conscious choice to maintain control actually strengthened the curse bonds. You're more stable now than you were before we left."
"Is that what your data shows?" I ask.
"That's what the data shows," she confirms. Then, more quietly: "But it's also what I hoped. So I may have been biased in my analysis."
Kaela grins. "She's saying she was worried about you."
"I was concerned about team cohesion," Lysara corrects sharply, but without heat. "Obviously."
And sitting between them, under the stars and ley lines, feeling the curse settled quiet in my chest—I start to understand something crucial.
The curse was always going to be part of me. The critical threshold was always going to come. But I don't have to face it alone.
I have them.
And that makes all the difference.