No. This is where I am brought every night.
When I wake in the morning, weak, my head throbbing, my mind slowly slipping away, it is because I have been here in this room with him. This is where Gygarth feeds me shadows, where he pours the void into my veins. But I never remember. Until now. Until the pain cuts through the veil that clouds my mind, showing me the truth.
This is real.
A surge of clarity hits me like a tidal wave, and my pulse quickens with the realization. I can feel the cool sweat on my skin, the way my lungs burn as they fight for air, the icy press of Gygarth’s tendrils tightening around me. The circle is real. The robed figures are real. And Gygarth, hovering above me, his smoke pouring into my soul, is real.
My eyes snap open, no longer veiled by the haze of terror, and I force myself to move. My hand shakes, but I unravel the bandage, slowly, my fingers trembling as the cloth slips away. The wound is raw beneath, the skin torn and red, but it’s enough. The blood flows, and with it, so does my awareness. The veil lifts entirely, and I see everything as it truly is—the dark room, the symbols pulsing around me, the void above, and Gygarth, his looming form sucking the light from the air.
I grit my teeth, every nerve alive with the agony in my hand, but I use it. I need it.
Pain is my awakening, and I am finally awake.
The green light comes from deep inside me, a flicker at first, then a burning flame. It surges through me like wildfire, traveling down my arm, and before I know it, my hand glows with a fluorescent brilliance, vibrant and blinding. The robed figures stumble back, their chants faltering as they shield their eyes, and Gygarth—he pauses, his swirling mass of darkness pulling back as if sensing the power I’m about to unleash.
I thrust my hand forward, and the green light explodes from my palm, a beam of energy so bright it illuminates the void itself. The force of it sends Gygarth spiraling back, his tentacled arms flailing as the light tears through him, unraveling the shadows that bind him. His guttural roar fills the space, shaking the very ground beneath me, but I don’t stop. I pour every ounce of strength, of will, into the light, watching as it pushes Gygarth deeper into the void, further from me, until he is nothing more than a distant speck swallowed by the dark.
The robed figures scream, their voices shrill as they retreat into the shadows, their ritual shattered, their control broken. The circle around me flickers and dies, the runes fading as the void above collapses in on itself, leaving nothing but silence. I fall back onto the cold floor, my hand trembling as the green light dims. My body is spent, my mind teetering on the edge of exhaustion, but I’m alive.
I’m awake.
Then I bolt upright and I am in my in bed, a scream ripping from my throat before I can stop it. My chest heaves, my hands gripping the sheets as if they’ll keep me tethered to reality. Solena jerks awake in the chair by the fireplace, her eyes wide with alarm. In an instant, the door bursts open, and Arax stormsin, his sword already drawn. Ashen arches his back on the bed, hissing, his smoky body shifting with agitation.
“Amara, what is it?” Solena asks, rushing to my side, her hands gripping my shoulders. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, gasping for breath. “It wasn’t a dream,” I choke out, my voice trembling. “It was real. I was… I was there again. The altar. The chanting. Gygarth. It’s not just in my mind—I was there.”
Arax takes a step closer, his brow furrowed, while Solena’s grip on me tightens. “Start from the beginning,” she urges. “Tell us everything.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to calm my racing heart, but the images of the void, of Gygarth’s monstrous form, flood back into my mind. “There were runes… on the floor, surrounding me. Chanting voices, people in robes. I couldn’t move. Then a demon came, this beast of smoke, with tentacles and these horrible white eyes. He—he was feeding me shadows, filling me with the void.” I shudder, my skin crawling at the memory. “I fought him off… with the light, the green light. I used my wound, and I forced him back, but it was real.It was real.”
Solena and Arax exchange a look, their expressions tight with concern, as if they know more than they’re saying. Solena stands abruptly, her gaze sweeping over the bed, something sharp in her eyes. She circles, her fingers skimming over the sheets, then kneels down, tugging at the edge of the rug that lies beneath.
“Amara,” she says, her voice tense. “Get out of the bed.”
My heart pounds in my ears, but I do as she asks, swinging my legs over the side and stepping onto the cold stone floor. Solena motions for Arax. “Move the bed.”
Arax steps forward without hesitation, his face grim. Using the smoke that trails from his fingertips, he summons a tendril, coiling it beneath the heavy frame of the bed. With a grunt, hepulls the bed and the rug aside, sliding them across the room as if they weigh nothing.
And then I see it.
My breath catches in my throat.
The runes—those same pulsing, ancient symbols that surrounded me in the void—are painted on the floor beneath my bed, beneath the rug, an inverted crescent moon at the circle’s center. They glow faintly in the dim light, twisting and spiraling into patterns I now recognize from my visions. I stumble back, my mind reeling.
“Void runes,” Arax mutters, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.
“Every time you’ve slept here,” Solena says softly, her gaze fixed on the runes with a look of horror, “your soul has been sent somewhere else—somewhere between reality and the void.”
My stomach twists. “How… how long has this been happening?” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
Inside, I already know. The void has been siphoning its essence into me since the first night I arrived, and the only times I have felt well have been when I spent the night somewhere else.
It’s not just a nightmare. It’s a trap.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots echoes through the hallways, the pounding growing louder as they approach. My heart leaps into my throat just as the door to my chambers flies open. A fleet of Blades storm inside, their faces hidden behind their shadowy helms, their weapons gleaming in the torchlight. Arax steps in front of me, his sword already drawn, its black edge catching the dim light from the runes on the floor.
“Stand down!” Arax barks, his voice filled with authority. His sword gleams, poised to strike. “You have no place here.”
