The Moon Gate's magic rippled as Jayden and Aerin stepped through, and the night hit them like a slap—icy wind tearing at their cloaks, the smell of snow and smoke mixing in the air.
The bridge stretched ahead, or what was left of it—narrow and cracked, lit by the pale blue glow of moonstone veins running through the stone. Beyond, the outer wall rose in jagged silhouette, its towers burning where the Shadowborn had breached.
And on the bridge…
Dozens of them. Shadowborn warriors moving like liquid shadow, their armor whispering instead of clanging. They carried no torches—only that cold, white fire in their eyes.
Aerin spat into the wind. "We'll cut through. Don't stop swinging."
Jayden nodded, but his heart was already pounding too hard, too fast. The silver flame in him pulsed, restless—not wild exactly, but hungry. The shadow in his blood whispered from just beneath the surface:
Let me take this fight.
The first wave came fast.
Aerin's axe rose and fell in a rhythm as brutal as it was efficient—one warrior split at the waist, another's glaive deflected into the ravine. Jayden's sword burned in his grip, each strike leaving silver arcs in the air that seared into shadowflesh and sent enemies screaming over the edge.
The bridge groaned under the weight of battle. Somewhere beneath them, stone cracked and fell away, the sound swallowed by the wind.
One Shadowborn leapt at Jayden from the side—too fast to parry. Instinct took over, and the flame inside him surged. His body twisted unnaturally, almost bending away from the strike, then came back with a slash so precise it didn't just cut the warrior—it unmade them.
The shadow's voice purred. Better. Now stop holding back.
Jayden staggered, the cold in his chest spreading. His vision edged in black and silver.
Aerin noticed. Between cleaving another warrior's skull, she shouted, "Jayden! Stay with me!"
"I'm fine!"
"You're not—"
The rest of her warning was drowned out by a sudden shockwave. A figure landed in the middle of the bridge, scattering Shadowborn like leaves.
The masked one.
The runes on their obsidian faceplate burned brighter here, throwing off faint tendrils of silver light that curled like smoke. The Shadowborn didn't attack them—instead, they slowed, forming a loose circle, leaving Jayden and Aerin isolated with the figure at the bridge's heart.
The masked figure's gaze locked on Jayden."You're slowing yourself," they said, voice steady despite the chaos. "Every heartbeat you resist, you weaken. I can end this battle in seconds—just give me the word."
"I'd rather lose than be yours," Jayden said.
The mask tilted. "You are mine. You just haven't accepted it yet."
The bridge shuddered violently. Sections of stone collapsed into the ravine, taking shrieking warriors with them. The wind howled harder, carrying flakes of snow that stung like sparks.
Aerin moved between them. "We don't have time for whatever this is."
"You're right," the masked figure said—and drew a weapon.
It wasn't steel. It was a length of darkness so sharp it seemed to cut the air just by existing. The Shadowborn warriors recoiled from it.
Jayden's silver flame flared, like a heartbeat answering its twin.
The fight that followed was a blur.
Aerin's axe caught the masked figure's blade once—only once—before the force drove her to one knee. Jayden came in from the side, his sword a streak of silver light, but the figure moved like water, parrying without effort.
Every clash sent shockwaves through the bridge. More stone fell away. The circle of space around them shrank until Jayden could see the black emptiness beneath with every step.
And still, the shadow inside him whispered: Stop fighting me. You could win in one breath.
Aerin shouted something—he didn't hear it.
The masked figure's blade came for him in a vertical slash, and without thinking, Jayden let the shadow in.
Just a little.
The world slowed. The cold became clarity. He could see the lines of movement before they happened, each thread of possibility stretching out before him like strands of spider silk. His body moved through them with terrifying precision, not blocking the strike but stepping into it, inside the arc, his own blade coming up under the masked figure's guard.
The cut landed.
It didn't draw blood—it drew light. Silver and black, spilling from the wound like liquid stars before dissolving into the wind.
The masked figure froze. Then, slowly, they laughed.
"Better."
The bridge gave one final shudder—and split down the middle.
Stone lurched away beneath Jayden's boots. Aerin caught his arm, swinging them both toward the last intact span. The masked figure stood calmly on their section as it crumbled, the wind catching their cloak like wings.
As they fell away into the dark, their voice rose over the storm:
"You'll come to me, little moon-child.And next time, you won't fight it."
Jayden and Aerin stumbled onto the outer wall, the remains of the bridge collapsing behind them. All around, the battle still raged—but for the first time, Jayden wasn't sure if the greater danger was outside the walls… or inside him.