Darius stood alone amidst the wreckage of the battlefield. Darkness pressed in from all sides, as if trying to swallow everything whole. He could hear the echo of his own heartbeat, loud and hollow in the stillness.
His gaze lingered on the spot where she had stood, but the emptiness around him only made the void inside his chest grow heavier.
"Why… why do I still feel… her presence… when she's gone?" Darius muttered to himself, his voice barely audible, carrying a weight he couldn't shake.
His hand trembled slightly as it closed around the hilt of the sword she had taken from him, but he didn't raise it. He merely stared at it, as though searching for the meaning behind everything that had just happened.
"I hate her… or do I…" His words faltered. The truth he had long avoided gnawed at him from within.
A wind swept through the ruined battlefield, carrying ash and the fading glow of fire across his face. Every gust seemed to whisper a reminder: he had to choose between rage… and the truths he had buried deep inside.
And then—a soft, distant laugh echoed from the darkness. Not from her directly, but as if it came from inside his own mind.
"Darius… you've never been rid of her… she's in every choice you've been too afraid to face."
Darius drew a deep, shuddering breath. His chest heaved, his heart pounding, but slowly, clarity began to cut through the chaos. The feeling he had tried so hard to deny—he realized it wasn't just hatred. She wasn't merely an enemy… she was a reflection of the part of himself he had long avoided.
He lifted his sword again. This time, it wasn't to strike, but to hold. To steady himself. To face whatever lay ahead—not to destroy, but to confront the truth.
"If this is the truth… if she's a part of me… I… I won't run anymore," Darius whispered, as if pledging it to himself.
The darkness around him could no longer hide the reality he had been avoiding. He now knew, no matter what came next, he would face the shadow… her shadow… and the feelings he had buried for far too long