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CHAPTER 39 — The Face Behind the Shadow
Moonlight spilled across the forest floor as the silhouette stepped forward…
and the darkness peeled away from its body like smoke sliding off glass.
Aren froze.
His breath dissolved in his lungs.
Because the figure standing beneath the moonlight…
…was a boy.
Thin.
Barefoot.
Clothes too small, too tight, torn at the sleeves.
Hair messy, sticking to his forehead like he'd run through rain.
A boy Aren recognized.
A boy Aren should not recognize.
He felt the world tilt beneath him.
"Th–that's impossible," he whispered.
Lirien stared between Aren and the boy, her blade trembling. "Aren… who is that?"
Aren couldn't breathe.
Because the boy's eyes—dark, hollow, trembling with unshed pain—were eyes he had seen in every mirror his entire childhood.
"…That's me," Aren said.
Lirien flinched. "What?"
Aren shook his head violently, backing up until his spine hit a tree. "No—no—no, this isn't real—this isn't—"
But the boy stepped closer.
One step.
Then another.
Every movement was wrong—too quiet, too smooth, too soundless, like he wasn't touching the ground at all.
The boy lifted his head.
"Aren," the child version of him said, voice thin and razor-edged with fear.
"You left me here."
Aren's knees buckled.
Lirien reached for him. "Aren, don't listen—this is the fracture trying to—"
"No," Aren cut her off, voice cracking. "This is… this is a memory."
The boy's face twitched with anger—an anger Aren had never seen on himself, not even in nightmares.
"You forgot me," the boy whispered. "You left me alone."
Aren swallowed hard, his throat too tight to speak.
The forest around them flickered.
For a heartbeat, the trees turned into white walls.
The mist turned into hallway shadows.
The crunching leaves became the cold echo of tiles.
Aren clutched his head, gritting his teeth. "Stop—stop—get out of my mind!"
The boy didn't stop.
He only stepped closer.
"Do you remember the door?" young Aren asked.
Aren shuddered violently. "No."
"You do."
The boy's voice sharpened.
"You just don't want to."
Lirien stepped between them, blade raised, eyes glowing with light.
"Stay back."
The boy blinked slowly.
And the entire forest went silent.
No wind.
No insects.
No breathing—except Aren's panicked gasps.
Child-Aren tilted his head—Echo's tilt, that same heartbreaking angle.
"Why did you leave us there?" he whispered.
Aren's heart fractured.
"…Us?" he repeated.
The boy nodded.
And behind him…
Shapes began to appear in the mist.
Small shapes.
Human shapes.
Shuddering, shaking, trembling.
Children.
Dozens of them.
Some older, some younger.
Some crying silently.
Some staring blankly ahead.
Some holding hands with hands that weren't really there.
All barefoot.
All pale.
All flickering like dying reflections.
Lirien stepped back in horror. "Stars preserve us…"
The boy lifted his hand and pointed accusingly at Aren.
"You left all of us in that hallway."
Aren staggered forward despite Lirien's attempt to grab him.
"No!" he shouted. "I don't remember any of this! I don't remember a hallway—I don't remember other kids—I don't—"
The ground shook violently.
The hallway flashed again—
—white walls
—metal doors
—handprints
—screams behind locked rooms
Lirien's voice cut through the distortion. "AREN! Look at me!"
He tried.
But the children stepped closer, surrounding him in a tightening circle.
"We were alone," they whispered together.
"You forgot us."
"You left."
"You escaped."
"Why didn't you bring us with you?"
"You weren't supposed to forget."
Aren fell to his knees.
His vision blurred.
"No… no… I didn't escape anything… I was summoned here… this is a different world… this is magic—"
The boy—the small version of him—knelt in front of him, lifting Aren's chin with a trembling finger.
His voice dropped to a whisper that felt like broken glass.
"Aren… you weren't summoned."
Aren stopped breathing.
Every child fell silent.
Lirien froze.
"What… did you say?" Aren whispered.
The boy leaned closer, eyes dark and full of grief.
"You weren't summoned," he repeated.
"You ran."
Aren's heart slammed against his ribs.
"You ran away from that place."
"You ran into the fractures."
"You ran into a dream you thought was real."
Aren shook violently. "No… no… this world is real… Lirien is real… Echo is real—"
The boy placed a small hand on Aren's chest.
A cold pulse shot through him.
"Aren…" the child whispered.
"You created this world."
Lirien's breath caught.
"Stop it," Aren whispered. "STOP!"
But his younger self only lowered his hand—and the forest flickered so violently the world broke into shards of memory.
The hallway.
The forest.
A bed.
A locked door.
A dark figure.
The summoning circle.
A scream.
A white ceiling.
Lirien's face.
A metal chair.
A fracture.
A hospital room.
An empty classroom.
Echo's reflection-eyes.
A shadow's hand reaching for him—
Aren curled forward, clutching his head.
"STOP!!!"
Everything froze.
Every child disappeared.
The forest snapped back into place.
Only the boy remained.
Staring.
Waiting.
"Aren…" he said softly.
"You have to remember. Because the thing behind the door… is still looking for you."
Aren lifted his head slowly, tears streaking the dirt on his face.
"What… was behind the door?"
The boy smiled.
A sad, broken smile.
"The reason you created this world."
A long shadow spilled out behind the boy—
—and Aren realized they were not alone.
Not anymore.
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