Jayden's voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper—"…Do it."
The words were a key in a lock he hadn't known existed.
The masked figure didn't smile—at least, not in any way the mask could show—but the runes across their face burned brighter, threads of silver and black spiraling out from their hand toward him.
It hit like being plunged into ice water.
The silver flame inside Jayden flared once, violently, then folded in on itself—imploding—before exploding outward again in a new shape. Not light, not shadow, but a molten weave of both. It burned and froze in the same breath, a current tearing through every nerve, every drop of blood, every thought.
His knees hit the stone, but he didn't feel pain. He felt… expansion. Like the world's edges had been pulled back to show the machinery beneath, and he was part of it.
Below, the Shadowborn army froze mid-step, heads tilting in eerie unison.
Aerin shouted something, but her voice was distant, drowned under a deep, alien rhythm—Thump.Thump.Not his own heartbeat.
Ours, the shadow in him whispered. Finally awake.
The change began in his eyes—Aerin's sharp intake of breath told him as much. His vision was layered now, three realities stacked: the physical world; a strange twilight space where every living thing glowed faintly; and a third plane of pure geometry, lines and curves of power binding everything together.
When he looked at the Shadowborn below, their shapes weren't monstrous anymore. They were intricate, almost beautiful—woven from the same strands that now burned in his veins.
Pull, the masked figure murmured.
Jayden obeyed before he could think.
A column of mixed flame—black threaded with silver—erupted from his chest, curling down toward the battlefield. It didn't strike like fire. It rewrote. Wherever it touched, the Shadowborn staggered—not burned, not frozen, but stripped of cohesion, their forms unraveling into dust.
The tide turned in seconds.
But the Second Heart didn't stop.
Jayden could feel it scanning the battlefield like a predator searching for stragglers. Every pulse of power demanded more—more Shadowborn, more unraveling, more feeding. And with each unraveling, he felt stronger, the boundaries of his body less and less relevant.
Aerin grabbed his shoulder. "Jayden! Stop! It's—"
The masked figure flicked their hand. Aerin was flung backward as if the air itself had swatted her away.
"Do you feel it?" they asked, stepping closer. "The unity? The truth? You are not light against shadow. You are the bridge. The balance. And balance… decides."
Another wave of Shadowborn charged the wall. Jayden didn't even raise his hand this time—the Second Heart reacted for him, tearing a swath through them before they were halfway up.
It was intoxicating.
It was terrifying.
Then—something new.
In the twilight layer of his vision, Jayden saw it: a flare of golden light at the city's center. Not Shadowborn, not mortal—something older. It pulsed in warning, sending ripples toward him that the Second Heart hissed at.
The masked figure went still. "They woke the Sentinel," they said quietly. "Interesting."
Jayden felt the Second Heart coil inside him like a snake. The Sentinel's light burned like a rival.
End it before it ends us, the shadow in him urged.
But deep in his chest, his own voice—small but stubborn—asked a quieter question:If I can unmake Shadowborn, what else could I unmake?
The masked figure extended their hand. "Come with me now. The Heart will burn out these walls and all who oppose you. The city will fall in hours—and then, the rest of the world will learn who you are."
Aerin, staggering to her feet behind the rubble, met his eyes. "Or you can remember who you were before them. Before this."
The Second Heart pulsed, impatient.The Sentinel's light flared, daring.
Jayden realized the next breath would decide everything.