My Infinite System.

The Thorne vaults smelled of ash and iron.

Candles burned along the stone walls, their flames tinted green from the wards carved into the rock. Chains rattled faintly in the distance, though no one moved. The sound came from the weight of magic itself pressing down.

At the center of the vault sat Eron.

The chair beneath him wasn’t a throne, but he treated it like one. Black wood, polished arms, high enough to lift him above the rest of the chamber. His fingers drummed slow against the armrest.

Before him, Reia hung bound at the wrists. Her blades were gone, her face bruised, but her eyes—half-open, half-burning—still carried defiance. Silas slumped beside her, metal shackles around both arms, his breathing rough. Vyn lay against the wall, shadows flickering faintly around her but weak, unstable.

Eron watched them the way a man might watch caged beasts. Not cruel, not even angry—just entertained.

A sudden tremor ran through the stone. Dust shook from the ceiling. The ward-flames flickered.

Eron’s head tilted. Then his lips stretched slow into a grin.

”So,” he murmured. ”The stray finally came home.”

Another tremor—louder. Screams muffled through the walls, the faint echo of steel on stone.

Marc stood at the edge of the chamber, arms folded. His broad frame looked relaxed, but the glow in his eyes betrayed the fire coiled inside. He shifted slightly when the tremors grew. ”He’s here.”

Eron’s laughter spilled, low and sharp. He leaned forward on his chair, eyes bright. ”Lucian Black. I wondered how long before he crawled back from the stars. And now he’s walking my halls.”

Reia lifted her head weakly, her voice hoarse. ”He’ll kill you.”

Eron’s grin widened. He looked at her as if she’d told a joke. ”Kill me? No, little blade. He’s already where I want him. Do you think I left you breathing by mistake? You are bait. And he took it.”

Silas forced a laugh through broken breath. ”You’re scared of him. That’s why you hide behind wards and pets.”

Eron’s gaze slid to him, calm, almost pitying. ”Scared? No. I am eager. There’s a difference. Fear tightens the chest. Eagerness loosens it.” He tapped his own chest lightly, smiling. ”Do you feel it? My heart isn’t racing. It’s singing.”

The ground shook again. Marc straightened, golden fire licking faint across his shoulders. ”He’s close.”

Eron looked up at him, grin cutting sharper. ”Then go. Bring him to me.”

Marc’s jaw tightened. ”Alive?”

Eron lifted one finger. ”Alive... but broken. I want him crawling. Half-dead, half-screaming. When he kneels here, I’ll show him the end. He’ll watch his friends burn before I finish him.”

Reia spat blood to the floor. ”You won’t get the chance.”

Eron’s grin softened, his voice dropping to a near whisper. ”Oh, I already have it.”

Marc’s aura pulsed. He turned, heading toward the stone doors at the back of the chamber. His footsteps echoed heavy, each one cracking faint embers off the ground.

Vyn stirred weakly, shadows curling faint around her arms. She croaked out, voice raw. ”He’ll tear you apart, Marc. Just like the rest.”

Marc paused at the door. He didn’t turn to her, but his voice was flat, hard. ”Then I’ll tear first.”

The doors closed behind him with a grinding thud.

Eron leaned back in his chair, satisfied. His fingers drummed again, steady rhythm against the wood. He watched the three of them in silence for a moment, then spoke quietly. ”Do you know why Lucian matters to me?”

None of them answered.

Eron tilted his head, grin faint. ”Because he’s proof. Proof that even the strongest can be led by the heart. He crossed the stars, risked everything... for you.” His gaze lingered on Reia. ”How sweet. How fragile.”

Reia met his eyes, her voice steady despite her weakness. ”He came back to finish you.”

Eron chuckled softly. ”And I will let him believe that. Until Marc drags him in by the hair.”

Silas rasped, struggling against his shackles. ”You’ll regret it.”

Eron’s smile dimmed, though only slightly. ”No. Regret is for those who lose. I do not lose.”

Above them, the tremors shook again—louder now, dust spilling from cracks in the stone. The faint sound of hunters screaming reached even the vault.

Eron closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deep. He seemed to savor it—the chaos, the fear. When he opened them, his grin had sharpened to something crueler.

”He cuts through my house like paper. Good. That means Marc won’t need to look for him.”

Reia tugged against her chains, her voice trembling but fierce. ”He’s not the boy you think. He’s more.”

Eron’s laugh rolled through the chamber. ”Then all the better. The brighter the flame, the sweeter the ash.”

Marc’s footsteps echoed through the mansion’s deeper halls. Each step grew hotter, the air rippling faint with the heat bleeding from his skin. His fists flexed as if already feeling Lucian’s throat in his hands.

He muttered to himself, low, almost like a mantra. ”Half-dead. Dragged to the vault. Let him watch them burn.”

The wards along the walls pulsed red, feeding into him, stitching more strength into his frame. He inhaled deep, fire lacing his breath.

A crash thundered ahead—Lucian’s aura folding the air, shaking the halls.

Marc grinned, eyes blazing.

Finally, the fight he’d been waiting for.

Back in the vault, Eron rose slowly from his chair. He stepped toward the captives, his presence pressing heavier with each step. Reia flinched as he leaned close, but she didn’t look away.

He whispered, his voice soft, almost gentle. ”Do you know what I’ll enjoy most? Not killing you. Not even killing him. It will be the look on his face when he realizes I planned this from the start. That every step he took was because I let him.”

Reia spat again, her lips curling. ”You’re afraid.”

Eron’s grin sharpened, eyes glinting. ”And you’re delusional.”

He straightened, turning back toward his chair. He spread his arms slightly, as though welcoming the tremors shaking through the walls.

”Let the dragon roar. Let the space bend. Tonight, the world’s prodigy will crawl to me. And you will watch him fall.”

The chains rattled as Silas struggled once more, Vyn’s faint shadows twitching against the wards. But Eron only laughed, sinking back into his seat, waiting.

Waiting for Marc to return.

And waiting for Lucian to break.