Darkness presses in from all sides.
Tomora is chained to the cold stone wall of the cell, his wrists bound high above his head, iron biting into bruised skin. His breathing is shallow, uneven, each rise of his chest a struggle. The collar around his neck hums faintly, reacting even to his weakness, as if waiting for him to make a mistake. Exhaustion finally drags him under, pulling his consciousness away from the pain and into something deeper.
Into a dream.
At first, there is nothing.
No walls. No chains. No sound.
Just an endless black void stretching in every direction.
Then, slowly, light appears.
A single flower stands in the center of the darkness—pure white, glowing softly as if it does not belong to this place. Its petals shimmer with a gentle radiance, untouched by shadow. The ground beneath it is invisible, yet the flower remains, upright and perfect.
Young Tomora stands before it.
Not the broken boy from the cell, but a younger version—smaller, cleaner, eyes still holding a trace of innocence. He steps forward cautiously, drawn to the flower without understanding why. The glow reflects in his eyes, calming him, warming something deep in his chest.
He reaches out.
The moment his fingers brush the petals—
Lightning explodes.
A violent crack splits the silence as electricity surges outward from his body. The white glow flickers violently, trembling under the sudden force. The flower shudders, its brightness twisting, collapsing in on itself.
Black spreads across the petals.
The white drains away, replaced by darkness that crawls like ink, consuming every inch. The once-gentle glow dies, leaving behind a corrupted, blackened flower pulsing with unstable energy.
The space trembles.
A voice echoes through the void, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.
VOICE (echoing)
Why do you run from yourself?
Young Tomora stiffens. His hands clench into fists at his sides. His breathing quickens, chest tightening as the words sink into him. He wants to answer, but his throat locks, the sound trapped behind fear and confusion.
Lightning surges again.
Thunder roars as energy bursts from his body, wild and uncontrolled, lighting up the darkness in violent flashes. The power tears through him instead of obeying, ripping through his nerves like fire.
Then—
Pain.
Sharp, unbearable pain.
Tomora grabs his head, dropping to his knees as the pressure inside his skull spikes.
TOMORA (in pain)
Aaaah!
The dream fractures.
A memory forces its way to the surface.
—Young Tomora stands in an open clearing, electricity crackling around his small body. Lightning dances from his hands, uncontrolled, wild. His face is twisted in pain as the power surges faster than he can handle.
At the edge of the clearing, Patricia watches.
She smiles.
Proud. Gentle. Unaware.
She does not see the strain tearing him apart from the inside. She does not hear the scream locked in his chest. She only sees the light, the miracle, not the cost.
The lightning spikes violently.
Young Tomora collapses, hitting the ground hard, body trembling as the energy overloads him. His vision blurs, pain swallowing everything.
Patricia does not understand.
No one ever did.
The memory shatters.
The dream pulls him back into the dark void.
Tomora falls to one knee, panting, one hand pressed against the invisible ground. Lightning crawls over his skin, but it feels wrong now—heavier, sharper. Something else moves beneath it, something unfamiliar.
He looks at his hands.
The electricity is no longer just yellow.
Another color bleeds through the cracks.
Dark. Purple. Shadow-like.
It coils around the lightning instead of fading, twisting together as if refusing to separate. The power feels deeper, denser, pressing against his bones from the inside.
The voice returns, calmer now, heavier.
VOICE
Because you are more.
Tomora steps back, heart pounding. The shadows in the void begin to shift, stretching and bending, slowly forming a shape. Not fully human, not fully monster—just a silhouette standing at the edge of his vision.
Watching.
VOICE
You are not meant to have one element.
Lightning surges again, colliding with the darkness. The two forces crash inside him, tearing through his body in opposite directions. Pain flares, sharp and consuming, but beneath it is something else.
Recognition.
Fear.
VOICE
Lightning and more collide within you.
The silhouette grows clearer, looming closer without moving.
VOICE
You are not normal.
The word echoes, reverberating through the void, through his bones, through his soul.
The dream collapses.
Tomora jolts awake with a violent gasp.
His body jerks against the chains, breath tearing out of his lungs as if he's drowning. Sweat pours down his face, soaking into his hair and the thin fabric of his clothes. His heart hammers violently in his chest.
The collar around his neck flickers, sparking briefly as it reacts to the sudden surge of power.
A warning.
A threat.
Tomora groans softly, lifting his shaking hands to clutch his head. Pain lingers behind his eyes, dull but persistent, like an echo that refuses to fade.
TOMORA (whispers)
…It hurts every time…
The darkness of the cell offers no answers.
Only silence.
He stares into nothing, breathing slowly, trying to steady himself. Lightning flickers faintly beneath his skin, suppressed but restless. The shadowed energy coils just beneath it, unseen but present.
He doesn't understand what he is.
No one ever has.
And as the cold stone presses against his back and the chains rattle softly with each breath, Tomora realizes the truth he's been running from—
Whatever he is becoming…
It will not let him stay weak forever.