As I say that, a voice cuts through the silence.
It does not echo.
It does not whisper.
It simply exists.
And so does he.
At first, I think it is just a shadow stretching wrong in the streetlight.
But shadows do not step forward.
Shadows do not walk beside you.
He moves next to me casually, like he has always been there. Same height. Same build. Same weight. The rhythm of his steps matches mine perfectly, like a reflection that refuses to stay in the mirror.
I slow down.
He does not.
Then he turns his head toward me.
And my breath leaves my lungs.
It is me.
Or it looks like me.
His hair is short, just like mine. Same shape. Same texture.
Except it is fully red.
Not dyed red.
Not tinted.
Red like fire that has decided to take a solid form.
He is wearing a red hoodie, black jeans, red Jordans. Clean. Untouched by dirt. Like he stepped out of a world where nothing can stain him.
And resting on top of his head is a crown.
Gold.
Heavy.
Set with deep red stones that pulse faintly in the dark.
The light catches it.
It does not look decorative.
It looks claimed.
I jump back.
My heart starts pounding so hard it feels like it might bruise my ribs.
The window beside me catches my reflection.
I look.
Then I look again.
Two of me.
One in the glass.
One standing in front of it.
I swallow hard.
I have to be losing it.
I turn back around.
He is still there.
Still watching me.
"What are you staring at?" he asks.
His voice sounds like mine.
But it carries weight mine does not.
"Am I dreaming?" I ask.
He blinks slowly.
Then he sighs.
"No," he says. "You are not dreaming. And you look stupid standing there like that."
"Who are you calling stupid?"
"You."
My jaw tightens.
"Okay," I say carefully. "Then what are you?"
He tilts his head slightly.
Actually thinking.
"What am I," he repeats quietly, as if the question genuinely interests him.
He looks down at his hands. Flexes his fingers. Studies them like they belong to someone else.
Then he looks back at me.
"I am the better version of you."
I stare at him.
"There is only one me."
His lips curve slightly.
"Not anymore."
I shake my head and start walking again. I refuse to stand there arguing with a hallucination.
"You are just something my brain made up," I mutter.
"You can keep telling yourself that."
He disappears.
Not fades.
Not dissolves.
He is just gone.
I take three more steps.
Then I feel it.
I look up.
He is sitting on top of a light post, crouched like it is nothing. Like gravity forgot about him.
"You are not in my imagination," he says calmly. "Well. You are. But not in the way you think."
I look up at him.
"Then explain."
He drops from the light post.
No bend in his knees.
No sound when he lands.
He straightens and walks beside me again.
"Do you remember what happened when you transformed?"
My chest tightens.
I look away.
"Not really."
He nods once.
"Exactly."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you disappeared."
His tone is simple. Factual.
"You vanished. Your thoughts. Your fear. Your hesitation. All gone."
He leans closer slightly.
"And I stepped in."
My stomach twists.
"What are you saying."
"I am not some random ghost," he says. "I am not a hallucination. I am you. The part that surfaces when you cannot handle it."
He taps his chest.
"I am your power."
He smiles faintly.
"I am you and the dragon woven together."
My breathing grows slower.
"So when I transform…"
"When you transform," he finishes, "you hand me the keys."
Silence stretches between us.
"No," I say firmly. "That is not how this works."
He chuckles softly.
"Sure it is."
I shake my head harder now.
"I am not giving my body to you."
He rolls his eyes like he is bored already.
"I saved your life tonight."
"That does not mean you own me."
"I do not need to own you," he replies calmly. "You will give it to me eventually."
"Never."
He watches me for a moment.
Then he scratches his head like something just occurred to him.
"By the way," he says, "you need to call me something."
"I am not calling you me."
He makes a face.
"Please do not. That sounds pathetic."
"Then what."
He thinks.
Actually thinks.
He looks up at the sky. At the moon barely visible behind drifting clouds.
Then he smiles.
"Eclipse."
I blink.
"That is terrible."
"It fits."
"It does not."
"It does," he says simply. "An eclipse is when one thing covers another. When light disappears because something stronger stands in front of it."
His eyes flicker red for a second.
"That is me."
I grit my teeth.
"Your name is William."
He shrugs.
"Not anymore."
We walk in silence for a few seconds.
Then he speaks again.
"You should just let me take over."
I stop walking.
"No."
"You almost died."
"I did not."
"You almost did," he corrects calmly. "The only reason you are breathing right now is because I stepped in."
I look away.
"I do not need you."
He laughs softly.
"You will."
"I will not."
He leans close enough that I can feel warmth radiating from him.
"When you are bleeding again," he says quietly, "do not call for me."
"I will not."
He steps back.
"Good."
He looks at my hair.
Then he smiles wider.
"Oh," he adds casually, "you might want to check that."
Before I can ask what he means, he disappears again.
Just like that.
I make it home in a blur.
The house is quiet.
I open the door slowly.
"Mom," I call out.
Nothing.
"Dad."
Still nothing.
They are probably still at work.
I walk upstairs mechanically. My body feels heavy. Not tired.
Burdened.
I go to the bathroom and turn on the light.
The mirror reflects a version of me that looks… off.
I step closer.
My breathing slows.
The tips of my short afro are red.
Not fully.
Just the ends.
Like something is spreading.
My stomach drops.
That is not possible.
Eclipse appears behind me in the mirror.
Not in the room.
Only in the reflection.
"Shu warned you," he says lightly.
I freeze.
He smiles lazily.
"The more you become me," he continues, "the more I become permanent."
I spin around.
He is gone.
I swipe my hand through empty air.
Nothing.
But I know he is not lying.
Because when I looked at myself before I passed out tonight, I was not me.
Red eyes.
Blood across my face.
A smile that did not feel like mine.
I grip the sink.
What happens when I do not come back.
What happens when Eclipse stops being a visitor.
And starts being the default.
I go to my room slowly.
I slide my sword under the bed.
I sit on the edge of it for a long time.
Jordan.
Maya.
Cameron.
They were unconscious when I left.
We almost died.
The thought keeps looping.
We almost died.
I lie down.
The ceiling feels too close.
I close my eyes.
And for a split second, before sleep takes me, I swear I hear him whisper.
"Soon."
And somewhere deep inside me.
Something agrees