The iron-bound door loomed before them, its golden glow flickering like a dying flame. Nyra's heart pounded, not from the battle, but from the way Kiel stood frozen—his blade lowered, shoulders rigid.
The shadow's massive form rose higher from the chasm, obsidian skin glistening with tendrils of smoke. Its voice rumbled like stone grinding against stone. "Go on, little messenger. Show her the memory you've locked away. The one that rots your soul."
Kiel's jaw clenched. "It's not—"
"Don't lie to me," the shadow said, and the ground split beneath them. Black fire surged upward, forming a twisted arch over the door.
---
Nyra stepped forward. "We're wasting time. Open it."
Kiel didn't move. His eyes flicked toward her, and for the first time since they'd met, she saw something worse than fear—shame.
The shadow grinned. "Very well. If you will not open it… I will."
With a single motion, it shoved its colossal hand toward the door. The golden light shattered into a thousand shards, and reality folded inward. The battlefield dissolved.
They stood in a narrow alley under a gray sky. The air was heavy with rain and smoke.
---
"Kiel," Nyra said cautiously, "where are we?"
He didn't answer.
From the far end of the alley, figures emerged—armed men in city guard uniforms. They dragged a bound prisoner between them. The prisoner's face was swollen and bloodied, but even under the bruises, Nyra recognized him from Kiel's earlier stories: Captain Veyran, his old mentor.
Nyra frowned. "I thought he died in battle."
Kiel's voice was barely a whisper. "…That's what I told everyone."
---
The scene played out on its own. The guards threw Veyran to the ground, and Kiel—this memory's Kiel—stepped forward. He wasn't the man Nyra knew now. His eyes were colder, his voice flat.
"You sold us out," memory-Kiel said. "Do you deny it?"
Veyran coughed, blood staining his lips. "I tried to stop them, Kiel… you don't know—"
A flicker of guilt crossed Kiel's face in the present, but in the memory, there was none.
Memory-Kiel raised his sword. "The council will hear what I want them to hear."
Then, without hesitation, he drove the blade through Veyran's chest.
---
Nyra took a step back. "You… killed him?"
Kiel's voice cracked. "I thought he was the traitor. I was wrong. By the time I found the truth, it was too late."
The shadow's voice slithered around them. "And he buried it. Lied to every ally. Built his honor on the bones of the only man who believed in him."
Nyra's throat felt tight, but she kept her eyes on him. "You didn't trust anyone enough to tell them."
Kiel finally met her gaze. "If I told the truth, everything we'd fought for would have fallen apart. So I carried it. Alone."
---
The shadow stepped closer, towering over them. "She knows now. And she will leave you, as all the others did."
Nyra drew her blade. "You really don't know me at all."
Before the shadow could respond, she lunged—not at Kiel, but at the dark titan itself. Her blade slashed through one of its arms, sending it reeling back. "You think you can use his worst moment to break us? Not today."
---
The battlefield around them warped violently. The alley twisted into a vortex of shattered memories—faces, battles, and fragments of pain swirling together.
Kiel stepped up beside her, his voice steadier now. "You're not my conscience. You're a parasite."
He thrust his sword into the ground. Golden light erupted from the blade, cutting through the storm of images. The shadow roared, its form unraveling under the glare.
Still, its voice echoed as it began to dissolve. "You can't kill me. I am the part of you that never forgets."
"Maybe," Kiel said, gripping Nyra's hand, "but I don't have to face you alone."
---
The vortex collapsed. They stumbled forward—and when the world settled, the door was gone, replaced by a quiet clearing under a pale sky. For the first time since they'd entered this place, the air felt clean.
Nyra let go of his hand, studying him. "We're not done talking about that."
Kiel gave a small nod. "I know."
Somewhere behind them, faint and distant, the shadow's laughter still lingered.