The Devil of the book of Envy

Lucian collapsed to one knee, his breath ragged. His body still trembled from the book's influence, his fingers twitching as if they still wanted to reach out and steal.

Veyren stood before him, watching with a gaze that was neither cruel nor kind—just patient.

"I expected as much."

Lucian forced himself to look up. "What…?"

"That you would fail."

Lucian's stomach twisted.

Veyren turned away, pacing slowly through the study. "You believe you can control Envy, but you have already proven otherwise. When it whispered, you answered. When it tempted, you reached for what was not yours."

Lucian gritted his teeth. "That wasn't—"

"Wasn't what? Your choice?" Veyren interrupted, his voice smooth, almost mocking. "Ah, but that is the truth of Envy, boy. It does not force—it merely asks. And you?"

He finally stopped, his hollow gaze pinning Lucian down like a weight.

"You listened."

Lucian felt something cold coil in his chest.

Veyren sighed, his fingers twitching midair, writing invisible words that never needed to be spoken.

"Lesson two: Every time you answer Envy's call, you lose a piece of yourself."

Lucian swallowed, trying to steady his breathing. "Then teach me to resist it."

Veyren chuckled.

"Resist? No, no, boy. You misunderstand. You cannot resist what you do not understand."

His ink-stained fingers curled. "So, let us change the lesson."

Lucian barely had time to react before the world around him shattered.

---

Lucian gasped as his surroundings blurred, warped—twisting into something else. The bookshelves, the lanterns, the stone walls of Veyren's study—gone.

Instead, he stood in a burning village.

Smoke filled his lungs. The scent of ash and blood clogged the air. Bodies lay scattered in the streets, lifeless, forgotten.

And in the center of it all, he saw himself.

Lucian—or rather, a version of him—stood among the wreckage, the Book of Envy open in his hands. His shadow stretched unnaturally across the ground, tendrils of darkness crawling from his fingertips.

Lucian's blood ran cold.

This… this isn't real.

"Not yet."

The voice wasn't his. It wasn't Veyren's.

It was the Book of Envy.

And for the first time, Lucian realized—he was seeing what he could become.