The world hung between breaths.Two lights pulled at him—one gold, one black threaded with silver—like two halves of a magnetic storm.
The masked figure's hand was still outstretched, shadow and moonlight curling around their fingers.Aerin's palm was open too, steady despite the tremor in her arm.
Jayden felt the Second Heart's impatience like a drumbeat under his ribs. Choose. Choose. Choose.
The masked figure's voice slid into his mind.With me, you will become what you were meant to be. Not a pawn. Not a shield. The board itself.
Aerin's voice cut through it. "With them, you stop being you."
The Sentinel's light flared in the distance, a soundless call. It wasn't whispering like the Heart—it didn't need to. Its presence was an anchor, pulling at him without words.
The Second Heart growled inside him, sensing rivalry.
He took a step back from the masked figure."Not your weapon," he said.
Their masked head tilted, unreadable. "Disappointing."
They flicked their hand. Shadow surged toward him, not to strike, but to reclaim—to reabsorb the Heart. The moment it touched him, agony ripped through his chest, like a tether was being yanked from his soul.
Jayden screamed—and answered.Silver-black fire exploded outward, throwing the figure back.
"Run!" Aerin shouted, already dragging him toward the golden light.
The Sentinel's call grew stronger the closer they ran. The palace's inner walls were cracked, ward-runes shattered, but the gold light punched through the chaos like a sunrise.
When they reached the plaza, Jayden stopped dead.
The Sentinel wasn't a statue. It wasn't a mage.
It was a being.
Fifty feet tall, carved from the same golden stone as the palace's oldest foundations, but alive. Its surface shifted like liquid metal, runes flowing across its armor-plated skin in patterns that seemed too ancient to belong to any current kingdom. Its eyes—twin discs of molten white—locked on him.
A voice entered his mind, deep enough to rattle his teeth.Second Heart. Child of the Rift. Why have you woken?
Jayden's mouth was dry. "To stop them."
You cannot stop what you are.
The words hit like a slap. "I'm not—"
Your flame is ours. Your shadow is theirs. You stand between storms only because you are both storms.
The Second Heart pulsed in agreement, hungry.
The masked figure's arrival was like a nightfall slicing across the plaza. They stepped from a rift in the air, cloak rippling.
"You should have come with me," they said, voice sharper now. "Now you will be claimed by a relic that will use you until you are ash."
The Sentinel raised one hand, gold light condensing into a sphere the size of a carriage.Begone, Wraith-Lord.
The masked figure laughed—low, dangerous. "We will meet again, little Heart."
They stepped backward into shadow and were gone.
The gold sphere vanished. The Sentinel's eyes dimmed slightly.You have days before the Heart consumes you. If you wish to survive, you will bring it to the Shattered Gate.
Jayden steadied himself. "And if I don't?"
Then you will become the war you think you're trying to stop.
The Heart's pulse quickened, as if it liked that idea.
Around them, the city burned. Shadowborn still fought in the streets, but without their leader, the tide was turning. Aerin's grip tightened on his arm.
"What's the Shattered Gate?" she asked.
Jayden swallowed hard. "I think it's where I find out what I really am."
And, he thought, maybe where he decided whether that was worth surviving at all.