Adrian froze where he lay, breath caught in his throat. The figure at the far end of the chamber did not move, yet its presence filled every corner of the room, as though the air itself bent around it.
The candle beside his bed trembled, its flame straining toward the shadow, as though drawn to it. Cassia stirred beside him, murmuring in her half-sleep. Adrian reached to wake her—then stopped.
The voice came again, layered, neither male nor female, not even fully human.
"You will not wake her. This is between you and me."
Adrian's pulse thundered. His lips parted, but no sound came out. He tried to rise, but the weight of the figure's gaze pinned him harder than any chain.
"Why?" he forced out, his voice hoarse. "Why me?"
The figure tilted its head slightly, and though its face was nothing but a depthless blur, Adrian felt the smile behind it.
"Because you listen. Because you feel the hunger more than the rest. You wear your guilt like a crown. You… are the vessel prepared for me."
He shook his head violently, his throat raw. "I am not yours!"
"You think denying changes truth?" the voice rumbled, amused. "Chains are forged from silence, from fear, from blood. You have carried them already. She—" A cold chuckle rolled through the walls. "Selene only borrowed what I gave."
The name made Adrian's chest tighten. He wanted to scream, to rage, but fear clamped down on his lungs.
The figure raised a hand—long, thin, more shadow than flesh. The air rippled around it like heat, though the temperature dropped, sharp and biting.
Adrian gasped as the shadows of the chamber stretched toward him, clutching like fingers. His arms locked against the bed, held by nothing visible. He writhed, but his body was no longer his.
Cassia whimpered in her sleep, curling closer to him, unaware. Adrian's heart lurched. He shouted at the figure, his voice breaking:
"Leave her out of this!"
The laughter returned, low and shaking the bedframe beneath him.
"She is irrelevant. Sweet to your flesh, yes… but her soul is not mine to claim. Only yours."
Adrian strained against the shadows. His throat ached, fury piercing through fear. "If you want me—take me then! Show yourself! Stop hiding behind whispers and walls!"
The figure did not move at first. Then, slowly, it stepped forward. Each stride made the candlelight bend and warp, the flame shrinking lower, weaker. The air grew heavier, thicker, as though Adrian were drowning on dry land.
When the figure stopped at the foot of the bed, Adrian saw for the first time what lay beneath the shadow.
Its face flickered. First a stranger. Then his father. Then Selene. Then Cassia herself. Every shift stabbed through Adrian like knives of memory.
"Do you understand now?" the voice whispered. "I am not other. I am you."
Adrian's scream stuck in his chest. He shook his head wildly, eyes burning. "No—you're not me. You can't be!"
The figure leaned closer. Its breath was cold as winter across his face.
"Then why do I sound like you?"
And in that moment—he heard it.
The voice was his own.
Deeper, older, stretched with echoes, but unmistakably him.
Adrian's stomach lurched. His body trembled, his will fracturing.
The figure reached out, its shadow-hand hovering just above his chest, where his heart hammered desperately.
"You cannot run from yourself. You cannot silence me. I have always been here, waiting. When you lied, I fed. When you desired, I drank. When you betrayed—"
"STOP!" Adrian roared, his voice cracking the silence like glass. Cassia jolted awake with a gasp, sitting upright.
Her eyes widened instantly at the sight of the figure looming over them. She clutched Adrian's arm, trembling violently. "Adrian—what is that?"
The figure's head turned slowly toward her, the shadows writhing. Cassia choked on her breath, as though invisible fingers closed around her throat.
"No!" Adrian fought against his restraints with everything in him, teeth clenched, veins straining. "You said she is not yours! Leave her!"
The shadow paused. The weight on Cassia's throat loosened, though she still clung to him in terror.
Adrian's chest heaved, fury overtaking fear. "If it's me you want—then take only me!"
The figure regarded him in silence for a long, agonizing moment. Then its voice came again, softer than ever, like the whisper of silk:
"Good."
The shadow-hand pressed against Adrian's chest.
Agony surged through him, searing white, as though fire and ice had fused within his veins. His scream ripped through the room. Cassia clutched him, sobbing his name, but her touch could not reach him anymore.
The figure leaned closer, its formless face almost touching his. Its final whisper crawled into his ear, sinking deeper than bone:
"You are ready."
And with that, the chamber went black.