The air felt heavier after the Herald vanished—like the world itself was waiting for my next mistake.
Or my next transformation.
Lysara kept a steady grip on my arm as I rose unsteadily to my feet. Her wings stayed half-spread, ready to catch me if I stumbled. Her eyes—usually sharp, defiant—now flickered with something I had never seen from her before:
Fear.
Not of the Herald.
Not of the gods.
Of me.
"Eryndor… what you did wasn't just control," she whispered. "You forced the fragments into alignment. That shouldn't be possible."
I swallowed against the metallic taste in my mouth. "I didn't force anything. It just… happened."
She shook her head. "Things like that never just happen."
The whispers curled around my thoughts like smoke.
"…that wasn't a defense…"
"…that was instinct…"
"…we protected you… we saved you… we acted for you…"
A chill ran through me.
Acted for me?
Before I could think further, another tremor shook the battlefield. This one was deeper, resonant, as if something ancient shifted beneath the surface. The jagged stones retracted slowly, sinking back into the earth, sealing away the divine arena that had been forced upon us.
But the danger hadn't ended.
If anything… it was getting closer.
Lysara stiffened. "Something's coming."
The horizon darkened—not with clouds, but with oily, rippling tendrils of shadow. They slithered across the cracked ground, eerily silent, moving toward us like predators scenting blood.
My pulse quickened. "Kaelith?"
"No." Lysara's voice dropped to a whisper. "These aren't his shadows. These are older. Wilder. Uncontrolled."
The fragments in my hands began to burn—not with heat, but hunger. The whispers sharpened.
"Feed us…"
"Claim them…"
"Take their essence… strengthen the fracture…"
My heart thudded hard against my ribs.
"Lysara, what are they?"
She took a slow step back. "Residual essence. When divine beings die—or fall—their leftover power sometimes festers. It becomes feral, mindless, drawn to other fragments like moths to flame."
The tendrils accelerated, slithering toward us faster.
"They want yours," she said.
A violent pulse surged up my arm. My fingers twitched. The fragments glowed brighter—too bright.
"Yes… let us feed…"
"Let us consume…"
"Let us grow…"
"No." I clenched my jaw. "No more losing control."
Lysara's eyes widened. "Eryndor—wait—"
But she didn't finish, because the shadows lunged at us.
Dozens. Maybe hundreds.
I raised my hands on instinct. Flame flared in my right. Water spiraled in my left. Shadow wrapped around my feet. Clarity sharpened behind my eyes. The fragments responded instantly, as though eager to unleash themselves.
The first tendril slammed into my flame, hissing violently before exploding into black smoke.
Another shot for my chest—water lashed outward, slicing through it like a blade.
Three more came from the ground—shadow curved up, forming a barrier that devoured them.
It was effortless.
Too effortless.
Lysara stared at me in disbelief. "You're not controlling them—they're controlling with you."
She was right.
The fragments weren't resisting me anymore.
They were working with me.
Moving with my thoughts.
Reacting to my instincts before I could even act on them.
The feral shadows screeched in a chorus of unearthly cries as I stepped forward. A wave of flame burst out in all directions, vaporizing a dozen at once. Water surged around me like armor. Shadow struck like a whip. Clarity cut through illusions forming in the smoke.
My movements flowed with unnatural precision.
It felt good.
Terrifyingly good.
The whispers cooed.
"Yes… this is what you were meant to be…"
"Power without hesitation…"
"Action without restraint…"
A tendril slipped past my guard—Lysara kicked it away with a flash of radiant magic.
"Eryndor, stop! You're pushing too far!"
I tried.
I truly tried.
But the more I resisted, the more the fragments whispered, urging me to embrace the ease, the instinct, the hunger.
The shadows closed in—
I inhaled.
The world dimmed.
And power burst out of me in a blinding surge.
A pulse—not flame, not water, not shadow, not clarity, but something new, something fused—exploded outward, flattening the battlefield. The feral essences disintegrated instantly, wiped from existence.
Silence fell.
Dust settled.
And I stood in the center of the devastation, breath steady, hands still glowing with mixed divine light.
Lysara approached slowly, as if nearing a wild animal that might bite.
"Eryndor…"
I turned to her, fragments humming under my skin.
Her voice cracked.
"Your fracture… isn't just widening."
A pause.
A breath.
A tremor.
"It's evolving."
The whispers purred.
And deep inside, beneath fear and fatigue—
A small part of me agreed with them.