The Shadow Within (Part 2)
The explosion wasn't sound; it was pressure. It punched through the room like the heartbeat of something too big to fit inside walls. Books lifted off their shelves, scattering like startled birds.
Damian was in motion before the dust settled. One arm swept across my chest, pushing me behind him. "Stay down," he ordered. The talisman in his hand pulsed, throwing off shards of blue light.
Through the haze came shapes—half human, half memory. Guards from the Upper Veil, or what was left of them. Their armor flickered like bad static, their faces smeared with the same red glow as the creatures from the fissure. Whatever infection had crawled out of that crack had taken them too.
"Containment's gone," Damian muttered. His voice was calm in the way fire is calm before it spreads.
The silver-haired woman spread her hands, palms upward, as if welcoming the storm. "They followed your signal, child. Every kingdom answers its heir's awakening."
> Our awakening, the voice inside me corrected. Do not forget me.
I clenched my jaw. "Can we fight them?"
Damian gave a short, humorless laugh. "Fight, run, improvise—those are the only verbs left." He threw the talisman at the nearest possessed guard. It hit the man's chest, detonating in a burst of pale fire that left nothing but armor. "Move!"
We ran between the shelves. The floor tilted beneath us; the whole library seemed to be sliding out of alignment. Sigils along the walls sparked and died. The woman didn't follow. She merely watched, smiling as if this chaos was the outcome she'd been waiting for.
"Who is she?" I shouted over the roar.
"Archivist," Damian said. "Keeper of the Veil's laws. And a liar."
He smashed through a smaller doorway, leading into a corridor that sloped downward in tight spirals. The air grew thick, humid, metallic. Each step we took left glowing prints that faded behind us. The presence in me purred approval.
> This place remembers our feet.
"Stop talking," I hissed.
Damian glanced back. "I didn't say anything."
The corridor emptied into another chamber—a circular vault with a pool of black liquid at its center. The surface rippled though no wind touched it.
"Portal?" I asked.
"Anchor," he said. "It keeps the Veil tethered to the human world." He looked up; the ceiling pulsed with faint light. "If we sever it, the shadows can't follow us."
"And how exactly do we sever reality?"
He turned to me. "With you."
The words hit like another explosion. "What?"
"You're the heir of the Silver Dynasty. Your blood built the anchors. Only your blood can close them."
"That sounds like something people say before they sacrifice someone."
His eyes softened despite the chaos. "I'm not losing you, Aria. But I need you to trust me one more time."
I wanted to laugh, scream, both. The ground shook again, closer now—boots, claws, the metallic rasp of blades. We were out of time.
I stepped to the pool's edge. The surface mirrored me in impossible clarity: my face pale under dust, eyes flickering between their usual brown and a silver that didn't belong. "What do I do?"
"Touch it."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
I crouched and pressed my fingers to the surface. Cold shot up my arm, pure and absolute, erasing every nerve. The light inside me answered, bright and violent. The pool reacted, flaring white. I heard a thousand whispers all at once—the dead, the unborn, the ones trapped between—and for a heartbeat they sounded like me.
> Let go, the presence coaxed. Let me guide it. You are too small for this storm.
"Don't," Damian warned, reading the tension in my body. He grabbed my shoulder. "Stay with me. Focus on my voice."
The presence hissed, an animal cornered. He will use you until you burn out.
"Shut up," I snapped aloud.
The light pulsed harder, rising in waves. I felt the energy tear through me, looking for somewhere to go. The floor vibrated. Cracks spidered across the walls. The pool turned solid—frozen mid-ripple—and then shattered outward in a rain of glass-bright fragments that dissolved before they touched the ground.
The rumble stopped. The air went still.
Damian lowered his hand. "You did it," he breathed.
Behind him, the corridor glowed red. The possessed guards were still coming, slower now but relentless.
"Then why does it still feel wrong?" I asked.
Because it was. The presence hadn't left. It coiled deeper, hidden, patient. You closed one door, it whispered. There are others. And when they open, you'll need me.
I swallowed hard. "We have to move."
Damian nodded, slipping an arm around my waist to steady me. We limped toward the far exit. The chamber behind us folded in on itself, walls imploding soundlessly. As we crossed the threshold, the world blinked. The library, the vault, even the smell of the Veil vanished.
We were back in the human world—or something pretending to be it. The air was cold and tasted of rain. Sirens wailed in the distance. We stood on a rooftop overlooking a skyline on fire.
Below, the hotel was gone. In its place yawned a crater surrounded by emergency lights and chaos. The city had no idea what had really happened. Not yet.
Damian released me, swaying a little before catching himself. His face was ashen. "We bought time," he said. "Maybe hours."
"What now?"
He looked at me with eyes that reflected the burning streets. "Now we hide you, heal, and figure out who betrayed us." He hesitated, then added quietly, "Because someone inside Vale Corp opened the first door."
The night wind tugged at my hair, carrying the faint smell of smoke and ozone. Far below, reporters shouted questions no one could answer. The ring on my finger cooled until it felt like nothing at all, and that was somehow worse.
Inside me, the voice shifted, silk over a blade. He thinks betrayal came from his world, it murmured. He hasn't looked at yours.
I ignored it, turning away from the crater. The skyline flickered as if the city itself was deciding whether to keep its lights on.
Damian touched his earpiece, listening to static. "My team's gone dark," he said. "They're either dead or smart enough to hide." He looked at me. "You did good, Aria."
I wanted to tell him it didn't feel like good. It felt like surviving an accident you might have caused.
The sirens grew louder. Helicopters circled. Damian grabbed my hand. "We can't be seen."
"Where are we going?"
"Underground," he said. "To the only people who still owe me favors."
As he pulled me toward the stairwell, the wind shifted, carrying a low sound from somewhere behind us—a whisper, almost drowned by the city noise.
> You can't run from yourself forever.
I froze. Damian glanced back. "What?"
"Nothing," I lied. But even as I followed him down the stairs, I knew the voice wasn't gone. It was waiting. Watching.
And it was patient.