We clashed in a flurry of steel and sorcery that burned entire galaxies to ash around us. Time itself broke. We fought across frozen seas of memory, over burning fields of forgotten prophecy, through the screams of unborn gods.
Still, we did not stop.
Until finally—I slipped.
He twisted my own magic, the shadow half of me, and shoved it down my throat. It tried to consume me from the inside.
"You never should've come back," he said, standing over me. "This world was never meant for you."
I gritted my teeth. "No."
The blade slipped from my fingers—
And then my shadow roared.
Not the part he had stolen.
But the one I had hidden.
Behind every scream. Every sob. Every betrayal.
The core of me.
It rose like a serpent, wrapping around his throat, dragging him back. He staggered, cursing, slashing at it—but the shadow laughed.
"You tried to erase me," I whispered, rising. "But you taught me to survive."
