The door slid open. Light spilled out, harsh and clinical, cutting into the dim corridor like a blade. I took one step forward. The bond pulled tight.
I couldn't move.The realization came slowly, layered beneath the fog pressing down on my thoughts. My body was there—I could feel it, heavy and distant—but it didn't respond. Not to command. Not to instinct. Not even to rage.
The drykken bastards must have put me into a neural stasis field. A prison that left me awake enough to suffer. A psionic dampening lattice must also have been applied, because as much as I stretched my mind, I couldn't…. the door had opened… a presence… I felt it. It washercutting through the haze like a blade. The darkness inside me recoiled, then surged, tightening its grip with possessive fury.
There,it hissed.There is the flaw.
I tried to lift my head. It didn't work. Panic flared, not fear, but frustration so sharp it made my vision blur. I pushed harder,summoning strength that once would have shattered planets. Still nothing.
Except—my fingers twitched. Just barely. But it was enough to make the darkness purr in satisfaction.Yes,it urged.That is how you wake. That is how you finish her.
Her presence flooded me—not physically, but through… something else. Something I couldn't quite name yet. The word… a meaning… it hovered at the periphery of my consciousness, and yet it remained so elusive it might as well have been buried in the depths of the Dark Abyss. I could feel her, I could capture some of her thoughts. I could… I stopped for a second, thinking… I felt an ache in her chest. The fear she was trying so desperately to contain. Grief layered over everything else like a constant, suffocating weight.
It slammed into me with horrifying clarity. I had done that to her. The memory surged forward unbidden, my hands around her throat, the way her pulse had fluttered beneath my palms, her eyes wide not with hatred but withshock. With trust breaking in real time.
Horror tore through me.
No.
That part of me—the part that knew her name, that remembered gold instead of red and black—reeled backward, clawing at the walls of my mind.
I hurt her!
The darkness tightened instantly, and its chains snapped taut.You corrected an error,it said smoothly.You almost freed yourself.
Freed.
The word tasted wrong.
Don't believe her. She's a temptress. She wants to destroy you in the most evil of ways.
I focused on her again, desperate now. Her sadness washed over me in waves, quiet and relentless. She wasn't afraid ofme. She was afraid oflosingme. The realization struck deeper than any blade.
Dravok, she called, not aloud, but through… through…. I couldn't grasp the word, no matter how hard I tried. It was there. Right there. I knew it was important. I knew that if I rememberedit,other things would become clear. Important things.
I tried to speak.
My mouth wouldn't open.
My chest wouldn't rise properly.
The drugs dulled everything except the conflict tearing me apart.
The darkness pressed closer, exploiting the weakness.
Get up,it commanded.Finish what you started. End the interference. End the pain.
The suggestion came with something intoxicating: clarity, strength, momentum. I felt it pouring into me, amplifying rage, sharpening purpose. My arm jerked. A real movement this time. Gasps echoed somewhere beyond me, guards would be my guess, weapons shifting, alarms I could sense but not hear clearly.
Her breath caught. I felt it. But I didn't remember who she was or why I was supposed to kill her. Not her name. Not her face. That knowledge hovered just out of reach, like something I'd once known how to breathe but no longer remembered how to do.
Yet something inside me panicked at the sight of her. Not like fear, more like recognition without memory. A sharp, instinctive alarm that screameddon't hurt hereven though it couldn't explain why. Even as the darkness surged in fury, drowning out every fragile thought with a single, relentless command.
Kill her.
Kill the enemy.
The order rang through me with brutal clarity, simple and absolute. It promised relief. Finality. Silence. The idea horrified me, but I couldn't understand why. Confusion tore through me, splintering thought from instinct, instinct from intent. I was drowning in contradictions—one part of me reaching, another recoiling, another screaming for blood.
