Marvel: Sin Lord

The night was quiet, almost unnervingly so. Inarius lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling of his room in the Massachusetts Academy. The faint glow of moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting long, jagged shadows across the walls. He closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep, but unease clung to him like a second skin.

When sleep finally came, it wasn't restful.

He was back in the dark place.

The air was thick and cold, heavy with an oppressive weight that seemed to press down on him from all sides. Around him stretched an infinite void, the kind of darkness that swallowed light and sound whole. He was alone—or at least, he thought he was.

Then he heard it. A voice, deep and resonant, echoing from every direction and none at all.

"Champion…"

The word rolled through the void like thunder. Inarius turned, searching for the source, but there was nothing to see. The darkness was impenetrable, and the voice seemed to come from everywhere at once.

"Prince of darkness… Prince of evil…"

The words chilled him to his core. He didn't understand them, not fully, but they carried a weight that settled deep in his chest. It wasn't just the words themselves—it was the way they were spoken, like they were etched into his very soul.

"Who's there?" he shouted, his voice trembling despite his best effort to stay calm. "What do you want from me?"

There was no answer, only silence.

Then, in the distance, he saw it: a faint, flickering light. It wasn't warm or inviting; it was cold, pale, and unnatural. As he took a step toward it, the ground beneath him seemed to shift and ripple, like he was walking on the surface of a frozen lake.

But before he could get closer, the light vanished, and the voice returned.

"Wake."

The word snapped through the void like a whip, and suddenly he was jolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a drum. His breaths came fast and shallow, his hands clutching at the sheets as if to ground himself in reality.

It took him a moment to realize he was back in his room, the familiar shadows of his belongings now a strange comfort. He reached up, wiping a hand over his face, and tried to steady his breathing.

"What the hell was that?" he muttered to himself, his voice shaky.

This wasn't the first time he'd been in that dark place. But it had been days since the last time, and he'd dared to hope it was over. Now it was back, and worse than ever. The words rang in his ears like a haunting melody, refusing to fade even as he sat there in the stillness of his room.

Champion. Prince of darkness. Prince of evil.

He didn't know what they meant, but the implications made his stomach churn. Who was the voice? What did it want from him? Why did it feel like he was being… chosen?

Inarius shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away, but it was no use. The darkness, the voice—it was all too vivid, too real. He needed help.

He needed Emma.

The thought hit him like a lightning bolt. Emma had been his anchor since he arrived at the academy, the one person who seemed to understand him, who could help him make sense of his powers and the chaos they brought. If anyone could help him make sense of this, it was her.

But she wasn't here. She was off recruiting that new mutant, Kitty Pryde.

Inarius clenched his fists, frustration bubbling up inside him. He couldn't afford to wait. The dreams—visions, whatever they were—were getting worse, and he didn't know how much more he could take.

"Come back soon, Emma," he whispered into the empty room. "I need you."

He lay back down, staring at the ceiling once more. Sleep didn't come easily, and when it did, it was shallow and restless.

The darkness was waiting for him.