Pain crushed over my entire body, relentless—like a never-ending waterfall battering flesh and bone. Every twitch sent lightning down my spine, a brutal command to stop moving.
I lay there and replayed the fight again and again, the moment etched into my mind.
The strike to my chest.
That was it. That was what put me here.
I killed it.
The thought hit harder than the pain. My eyes widened as I forced myself upright, muscles screaming as I sat up. I did it. But instead of relief, something cold settled in my chest.
What was the difference?
Why did I kill it?
I felt… different. As if my soul had grown darker than it already was—heavier, stained. Memories surged without warning. My mother's death. Her screams. Her voice breaking through the chaos.
Choose your own life, Asher.
My breath hitched.
I looked down at Midnight, gripping the hilt with certainty, as if acknowledging the change taking root inside me. This wasn't just survival anymore. Something had shifted. When I looked up, my shadow was watching me—silent, still—as though waiting to see what choice I would make next.
My head throbbed, pounding, scraping at every thought and memory colliding inside me. I wanted it to stop. I wanted it all to be over.
I turned inward—down to my soul core.
There it was.
11 Death Shards out of 1000.
My blood ran cold.
That was a calamity.
The realization sent shivers down my spine. We actually killed it—only because of the paralysis. The alternative was something I refused to think about.
And then another realization struck.
I now had 6 Soul Shards.
Which meant that thing… had six soul cores.
In the depths of my core, something new ignited.
Ancient: Flare
Rank: Echoing — the same as mine.
"Description," I asked quietly.
The voice answered.
The blade's spirit and fire rest upon the life it protects.
Another ominous description. I exhaled slowly.
But as I looked at the blade, I knew one thing with absolute certainty—
This sword was perfect for a certain someone.
I looked around before pushing myself up and saw that Sare and Trace were still asleep. Relief loosened something in my chest.
Ignoring my body's fierce resistance, I stood and drew my shadow back into myself, letting it brace my movements. Pain protested, but I endured it. I needed to be sure.
I scanned our surroundings, searching for any sign of danger—any proof that this place wasn't as safe as it felt.
That was when my eyes caught on the throne in the center of the room.
It was pristine. Black as void, its surface etched with a magnificent, unfamiliar design. The longer I stared at it, the more unease crept into my spine.
Now that I really looked at it…
The Shadow Guardian was serving something.
Whatever had sat on that throne.
I scoffed quietly and shook my head. I'm going crazy. It was just a monster. That's all.
Aside from the throne, the chamber was completely empty. No furniture. No desks. Nothing. Just a vast, hollow space—less a room and more a hall meant to be stood in, not lived in.
A groan broke the silence.
Trace.
I moved to her side instantly, not realizing how much strain I was putting on my body until pain flared hot and sharp. I ignored it.
"How are you feeling?" I asked, softness slipping into my voice before I could stop it.
"Why are you moving?" she said, her voice tight—almost breaking. "I didn't fully heal you yet."
"I'm fine," I said gently. "You healed me enough. That's all I needed."
I didn't want to use her healing more than necessary.
"We won," I added, a smile tugging at my lips despite everything.
She sat up and wrapped her arms around me.
"Yes… we did," she whispered into my ear.
Heat rushed to my face, my heartbeat suddenly too loud, too fast. I cleared my throat awkwardly as she pulled back.
"I have something for you."
Trace raised a brow slightly. "What is it?"
"Give me your hand," I said. "It's not something I can just hand over. I have to transfer it… through our souls."
She hesitated only a moment before closing her eyes and placing her hand in mine. I did the same.
Warmth bloomed between our palms—not sharp or overwhelming, but steady. Calming. Familiar.
The kind of warmth I had only ever felt with one person.
I focused on Flare and willingly released it, guiding it into her soul.
"I have a sword," she whispered, awe threading through her voice.
I looked away quickly and let go of her hand, my heart still racing.
"Call it," I said, trying to sound casual. "See how it feels."
She called the saber forth.
Instantly, it looked as though it had been made for her—perfectly balanced, perfectly aligned. The glow along its edge reflected in my dark, smoky eyes as I watched, unable to look away.
"Asher…" she said.
Her voice wasn't commanding this time. It was open. Soft.
"Thank you."
Before I could fully process the weight of her words, a scream tore through the hall.
"Sare!"
Trace and I were at her side in an instant, our movements blurring together.
"Sare," Trace said sharply. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"Is something coming?" I asked. "Do we need to move?"
Sare jolted upright, drenched in sweat, her breath coming in harsh, broken gasps. She looked like she'd just clawed her way back from drowning.
I pressed the makeshift canteen into her hands—the one I'd fashioned back in the cavern for the road. Thank you Professor Scare
She drank greedily. The sound of long, desperate gulps echoed through the vast, empty hall.
When she finally lowered it, she looked at both of us, her eyes unfocused—haunted.
"I had a vision," she said. "A sight. A glimpse."
The room felt suddenly smaller.
"I know how we get back home."
"What… having a hard time believing it?" I asked quietly.
The words felt strange in my mouth. After everything we'd survived, hope almost felt more dangerous than fear.
Sare wiped sweat from her brow, her hands still trembling faintly. Her breathing had steadied, but her posture was tight, like she was holding herself together by force alone.
"It's part of my ability," she said. "But it doesn't happen often." Her fingers curled into the fabric at her side. "I don't see the future the way people think. It comes in pieces—fragments. Moments that feel more like memories than visions."
She paused, jaw tightening.
"When it happens… it hurts."
The weight of that settled heavily in the room.
"I saw a direction," Sare continued. "A town. There were people there—real people." Her voice softened at the word. "And a gate. A way back home."
For a long moment, no one spoke.
"It's far," she added, meeting our eyes. "Far enough that I can't promise it'll be easy. Or safe." She drew in a slow breath. "But it's our way out. The only one I could see."
I looked at Trace, my brows pinching together as relief and fear tangled in my chest. A way home. It sounded unreal—too fragile to trust completely.
Trace was silent for a heartbeat, then nodded once.
"Do you remember anything else?" she asked. "Anything that could help us prepare?"
Sare shook her head, frustration flickering across her face. "I wish I did. It was only fragments. I saw the gate. I saw the town. That's all." She hesitated, then said softly, "But I know the direction." She repeated as if assuring thats all she knew.
Her gaze lifted, focused on something far beyond the walls of the hall.
"Northeast."
Trace straightened, confidence settling over her like armor.
"Then that's our path," she said. "We move northeast."
Her certainty anchored us, and for the first time since waking in this place, the crushing weight in my chest loosened—just a little.
We weren't trapped anymore.
We had a direction.