Lyra had braced for anything.
Her soul. Her body. A debt she could never repay. So impossible task that would push her to the edges of everything she was capable of. She had made peace with all of it in the span of a few seconds, quietly and completely.
What she heard instead stopped her cold.
"I want you to call by my na. Not my lord."
"...What?"
"You heard correctly." He leaned back slightly, utterly unbothered. "That’s my price. Honestly, it’s been grating on for a while now. The others haven’t moved past their fear of yet, I understand that, it’s natural. But you, Lyra." A faint teasing note entered his voice. "You’re my friend. Are you not?"
Lyra’s mind had essentially stopped functioning.
What is he saying right now?
Not one single outco she had ntally prepared for looked anything like this.
"Yes," she managed. "I am your friend."
He smiled. A genuine one, warm in a way that sat oddly against everything she associated with the God of Destruction.
"Good. Then from now on, just call Necrotize. Understood?"
She nodded, sowhat chanically.
"As you wish, my lor..." She caught herself. "...Lord Necrotize."
"Just Necrotize."
"..."
"...Nec... rotize."
"There it is."
Lyra sat very still, quietly processing what had just occurred.
She had been prepared to offer her soul. She had been prepared for servitude, for sacrifice, for sothing that would fundantally alter the course of her life in so dramatic and irreversible way. Those were the kinds of prices that made sense for what she was asking.
Asking to be called by his na, by the God of Destruction’s na, casually, without title or deference, was sohow worse. The soul option she could have managed. This was going to cause her no end of trouble, and so part of her already knew it with quiet certainty.
But she had made her decision. She would do anything to master lightning.
Anything, apparently, including this.
She straightened and tried again, deliberately this ti.
"So... Necrotize." The word felt strange in her mouth, like wearing sothing that didn’t quite fit yet. "How do I use your essence?"
Necrotize considered her question for a mont before answering.
"Before learning how to use my essence, you need to understand what it actually is." He paused. "And I’ll warn you now, it is extraordinarily difficult to cultivate."
Lyra had already assud as much. It wouldn’t be the essence of destruction if it ca easily.
He seed to appreciate that she didn’t flinch. He continued.
"What my essence is called among mortals in certain other worlds is... Qi."
"Qi..." She repeated the word quietly, turning it over. She had never encountered it in any text, any lesson, any conversation she could recall.
"Yes. Qi. It contains exponentially more destructive power than any other essence in existence, and it cannot be learned the way you learn to handle mana. Refining it is an entirely different discipline. Most people dedicate their entire lives to it and never surpass fifty percent purity." He let that land before continuing. "Because of this, each stage of purity carries its own na."
Lyra was completely still, absorbing every word.
"When one refines Qi to five to ten percent purity, it is called Spiritual Qi, the entry stage, the very beginning. Ten to thirty percent is True Qi. Thirty to eighty percent is Immortal Qi. Eighty to ninety-five percent is Divine Qi." Another pause, deliberate this ti. "And when one achieves one hundred percent purity, that is called..."
He said the final word quietly.
"Dao."
The word echoed in Lyra’s mind before she had consciously registered it. She turned it over once, then again, and sothing strange happened. A heat moved through her that had nothing to do with temperature. Sothing deep and wordless, like a door she had never known existed suddenly vibrating in its fra. The ache that had lived in her chest for as long as she could rember began, inexplicably, to loosen.
She didn’t know what it ant. She couldn’t explain what she was feeling.
But it was calling her. Whatever it was, it already knew her na.
"Dao," she said aloud, without aning to.
Necrotize watched in quiet fascination as it moved through her.
Her body is already responding. A thought passed through him, unhurried. After all, this is the path she was always ant to walk. Her body simply recognises it.
He considered, briefly, whether to tell her about her unique constitution. He decided against it. Pride, if it took root too early, would damage everything that ca after. He had seen it happen before. He wasn’t going to let it happen here.
There’ll be ti for that later. When she’s ready.
After a mont, the distant look faded from Lyra’s eyes. She turned to face him.
"Necrotize." The na ca a little more naturally this ti. "Please, teach how to use Qi."
He looked at her, eyes narrowing slowly. Sothing moved behind them, an idea forming, accompanied by a smile that carried more mystery than warmth.
"There are many paths to learning Qi. But in your case, there’s a complication." He tilted his head slightly. "You’ve already built a mana circle."
Lyra felt a flicker of unease. She opened her mouth.
"However," he continued, "there is a way around it."
"What is it?" she asked, leaning forward instinctively.
What happened next did not belong in any version of reality she had ever imagined.
Sothing drove through her chest.
Sharp. Absolute. Precise.
A cold spread from the point of entry and clenched around her heart with the certainty of sothing that had always been inevitable. Blood ca, from her nose, her ears, the corners of her eyes. She looked down slowly, her mind not yet willing to process what her body already understood.
A hand.
Erging from her chest.
His hand.
She turned her head toward him. Necrotize sat beside her exactly as he had been, unhurried, composed, that sa quiet smile resting on his face as though nothing of particular consequence was occurring.
"Why..." The word ca out barely above a breath. She couldn’t find the strength for anything more.
"You have to die," he said. Plainly. Gently, almost.
He closed his fist.
Her heart ceased.
He withdrew his hand and she folded forward, sliding from the bench without a sound. Still. Utterly still. The breeze continued to move through the garden. A butterfly crossed the path in front of them, indifferent.
Lyra was dead.
And Necrotize watched with that sa unhurried smile, as though he were simply waiting for the next part to begin.
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