Chapter 30: The One Who Watches Everything
When Ravi opened his eyes, he found himself floating on a surface of dark, still water. A dense black mist surrounded him, and above, a sky of absolute night was cracked with faint lines of glowing crimson.
He didn't panic. He had seen this place before.
He had visited this dreamscape many times — always when his body fell unconscious from extreme essence depletion. Yet, this time, something felt ... different.
Ravi rose slowly to his feet, standing atop the water as ripples spiralled outward with each step. The silence here was deafening, but his mind was unusually clear.
He looked up again at the crimson fractures in the sky. That was new. In all his previous dreams, the sky had been pure, black, and still. These cracks now spread slowly, like bleeding wounds across the night.
With a sigh, he muttered to himself,
"Life really is just a series of trials in this world of examinations."
Instinctively, his hand reached to the right side of his neck — and there it was: the sigil.
The Dark Sigil had followed him even here into a space of supposed subconscious refuge. Ravi clenched his jaw and barely held back a curse.
He began walking through the endless water, steps light, ripples widening. There was nothing to see or hear — just the weight of his thoughts bearing down on him as the various possibilities of his condition surfaced in his mind. If he had one in this place or he's the mind of his body.
What would his condition be when he woke?
Each possible outcome he imagined felt worse than the last. Surrounded by cursed beasts. Trapped deeper underground. Abandoned. Dead.
And if — somehow — he made it out, who would accept or help him?
Master Zirak? No, Ravi had already sensed the doubt in him.
Zaara? His old companions? They would all turn away the moment they saw the sigil: the cursed mark he bore.
His eyes narrowed but then softened. He whispered, "I seek refuge with Allah against the Satan, the outcast. And - Allah is the best guardian, and he is the most merciful of the merciful."
He walked on in silence, prepared for the moment he'd awaken again — likely in pain, likely alone. Until something caught his eye as he looked around.
A white light.
A single, radiant dot pierced the black mist to his left. He paused, staring at it. In all the times he had been here, he had never seen anything like this. Nor had there been red cracks in the sky. This dream ... was no longer like before.
He changed direction, moving toward the light with careful steps. As he neared it, he slowed.
Standing in the center of that glow was a man — or something like a man.
He wore a perfectly fitted tuxedo, split cleanly into black and white down the middle, fused with his skin. His hair was half obsidian, half pearl-white. From each side of his head curved a horn — black on the right, white on the left. His eyes matched the theme: one black as night, the other white as dawn. And behind him, twelve massive wings — six black, six white — arched out like a beautiful halo.
The man smiled brightly, his expression pleasant, even cheerful.
"We finally meet, Ravi Sahara. Nice to meet you!"
Ravi stopped in shock, his eyes narrowing.
"Who ... are you? No—what are you?"
The man snapped his fingers.
A black table appeared between them. Two chairs materialized on either end — one ornate throne with white engravings, and the other a simpler seat with clean white accents. Ravi found himself sitting in the plain chair before he even realized it.
The man, now seated on the throne, leaned his chin on one hand and replied with a smirk,
"Let me introduce myself. You can call me Reydon. Or if you like, Mr. Reydon. Just think of me as a phantom — a shadow of someone who died centuries ago. Who I really was ... well, that much you can probably guess just by looking."
Ravi said nothing, his sharp gaze studying the man — his manner, his aura, his strange duality.
After a moment, he asked quietly,
"So this place is my consciousness ... and you must be the previous wielder of the Umbra Aspect."
Reydon grinned wider.
"Very good! You're quick — just as I hoped. Umbra Aspect ... yes, that's what you call it now. Light and shadow woven as one. You awakened it — and when you did, this phantom of mine awakened automatically in you. Well, if you asked me why I created a phantom in my lineage? Then, out of pure amusement, I guess."
Ravi had read legends of powerful Essence Wielders who can left behind fragments — phantoms shaped from their own essence and memories. These phantoms were like an artificial projection of their personalities.
Reydon, it seemed, was one such phantom.
Reydon clicked his tongue playfully and scratched his chin.
"By the way, if we trace lineage, you'd technically be my great-grandson. Shouldn't you call me grandfather?"
Ravi's eye twitched, his expression a mix of irritation and amusement. For a moment, a distant memory of his father bubbled to the surface.
The resemblance in mannerism — the teasing smirk, the odd cheer in the face of calamity — was uncanny.
And somehow ... comforting.