Darkness surrounded her.
Not the kind of darkness that comes with night…
This was deeper. Alive. Breathing.
Aira tried to move, but her body felt frozen.
"Where am I…?" she whispered.
Her voice echoed… but something else echoed with it.
A soft laugh.
Cold. Empty. Terrifying.
"So… you can hear me."
Aira's heart pounded.
"Who are you? Show yourself!" she demanded, trying to sound brave.
Slowly, the shadows around her began to twist and gather.
They formed a figure.
Tall… and cloaked in darkness.
Its face was hidden, but its presence felt powerful—almost royal.
"I am the one who owns the crown," the voice said calmly.
Aira stepped back.
"No… this is not real…"
The shadow moved closer.
"Oh, it is very real."
Suddenly, the air turned heavy.
Aira felt something tighten around her chest.
"You touched what was never meant for you," the voice whispered.
"I didn't mean to!" she cried. "I just… I was pulled towards it!"
The shadow paused.
Then, for the first time… its tone changed.
"Of course you were."
Aira froze.
"What… do you mean?"
"The crown doesn't choose the weak," it said.
"It chooses the one… who can survive it."
Aira's breathing slowed.
Survive…?
Before she could ask anything more—
Visions flashed before her eyes.
A throne made of black stone.
A battlefield covered in shadows.
And a man…
Standing alone, wearing the same crown.
His eyes were cold.
Empty.
Broken.
Aira gasped.
"Who… is he?"
The shadow didn't answer.
Instead, it whispered—
"That… is your future."
"No!" Aira shook her head. "I won't become like that!"
The shadows around..