Ryker drifted in darkness.
It wasn't the kind that came with sleep or death. This was alive—breathing, watching. The air was thick, like tar in his lungs, and the silence pressed against his skull until every thought felt like it might shatter.
He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
Then a whisper slid through the dark.
"You let her come for you."
A pale light flickered to life ahead of him, illuminating a reflection on an invisible surface—himself. But his reflection smiled first.
"You always thought you could protect her," it said, its voice a perfect imitation of his own. "But you're the reason she's here. You led her straight into the King's grasp."
Ryker shook his head, backing away—though he wasn't sure there was anywhere to go. "No. She came because she's brave. Because she—"
"Because she's foolish," the reflection hissed, the light around it dimming to sickly violet. Its eyes gleamed like coals. "Just like you. You thought you could play the hero. You thought love would make you stronger."
The reflection's grin widened, splitting too far, too sharp. "But all it made you was weak."
The ground cracked beneath him. Shadow tendrils coiled around his ankles, dragging him down into the black. Ryker struggled, summoning the last threads of his magic, but every spark was swallowed instantly. His power was gone. His strength—drained.
And then, through the suffocating dark, came his voice.
The Shadow King.
"Do you see now, my vessel?" the voice murmured, smooth and terrible. "Every memory, every feeling you cling to—it feeds me. You think you fight me, but you only open yourself wider."
The world shifted. The darkness peeled away to reveal a shattered hall—Elaren Keep as it once was, but twisted. Walls of stone wept black liquid. Chains hung from the ceiling like vines. And at the center of it all stood Akira—bathed in light, but motionless.
"Akira?" he called.
She didn't move. Didn't breathe. Her eyes were open, but they were empty, glassy, staring straight through him.
Ryker stumbled toward her. "No—no, please, not you too—"
But as he reached her, she smiled.
It wasn't her smile.
Her voice came out cold, hollow. "She came for you. And she died for you."
He froze, horror clawing up his throat. "No—no, that's not real!"
The King's laughter rippled through the dream, echoing from everywhere and nowhere at once. "Oh, but it will be."
Akira's body crumbled into ash between his hands, and where she stood now rose the Shadow King himself—his form taller than before, eyes glowing like two dying suns. His presence pressed on Ryker like a mountain.
"You cannot protect her," the King said. "You cannot even protect yourself. Your power was mine from the beginning."
Ryker fell to his knees, gasping as black veins spread across his arms. Every beat of his heart pulsed with the King's magic, threatening to consume what was left of him.
He could hear Akira's voice faintly through the fog—real, somewhere far away, calling his name.
He clenched his fists. No. I won't let him win.
The Shadow King's eyes narrowed. "You think you can resist me?"
Ryker raised his head, and though blood trailed from his lips, his gaze burned with defiance. "No," he rasped. "I'm not resisting."
He slammed his hand against his chest, and light erupted from within, searing through the black veins like wildfire.
"I'm fighting."
The dreamscape cracked, splintering into blinding light. The Shadow King's roar shook the void as Ryker's soul burned with rebellion—light and darkness clashing in a storm of power.
But just before the light consumed everything, Ryker heard the King's whisper—cold, amused, inevitable.
"Then we'll see which of us she saves
---
The world fractured into shards of light and shadow.
Ryker fell through them—through fragments of memory that sliced past him like glass. His childhood. The first time he met Akira. The night he swore to protect her. Each image flashed by, twisting, warping, until the laughter of the Shadow King bled into every moment.
"Do you see?" the King's voice murmured, echoing in all directions. "Every memory is a thread. Every thread, a chain. You've bound yourself to me through your own heart."
Ryker crashed onto a surface that wasn't solid, but slick and rippling—like a mirror of dark water. When he looked down, his reflection was wrong again. The eyes were violet. The smile wasn't his.
He struck the surface with his fist. "Get out of my head!"
The reflection smiled wider, its voice shifting seamlessly into the King's. "Your head? No, Ryker. This is mine. I merely let you live here."
The water rippled violently, and from it rose versions of himself—twisted echoes, all clad in shadow, eyes empty of light. They moved in sync, surrounding him, whispering his doubts:
"You'll never be strong enough."
"You failed your family."
"You'll fail her too."
Their voices grew louder, overlapping until it was a chorus of venom.
"She'll die for you, Ryker. Just like they did."
"Stop it!" he shouted, but they lunged at him—each shadow striking like a shard of his own guilt. He fought back, his fists glowing with faint light, but every time he hit one, it split into two more. The darkness fed on his anger, his fear.
The King's laughter thundered again. "Yes, that's it. Fight. Struggle. The more you resist, the deeper you sink."
Ryker's light began to flicker. He dropped to his knees as the weight of the illusions crushed him. His breaths came ragged, his heartbeat chaotic.
Maybe the King was right. Maybe this was always how it was meant to end.
Then—through the din—he heard her voice again. Not the illusion's. The real Akira.
"Ryker… come back to me."
It was faint, fragile—but real. Her light reached even here, through the veil.
Ryker closed his eyes. And for the first time, he didn't try to fight the darkness with anger. He drew on that voice—on her.
He remembered her laugh. The way she looked at him when she believed in him even when he couldn't. The warmth in her eyes that felt like sunrise after years of night.
The darkness trembled.
The clones around him faltered, their whispers breaking into static.
"You think love will save you?" the King snarled, voice shaking now.
Ryker opened his eyes. They blazed white-hot with light. "No," he said softly, rising to his feet. "It's what saves you from being alone in the dark."
He thrust his hands outward, and the light burst from him—pure, fierce, unstoppable. The illusions screamed as they dissolved, their shapes disintegrating into motes of gold that rose like fireflies.
The Shadow King's voice roared, shaking the very air: "You dare defy your master?!"
"I was never yours."
The world shattered.
The King's form loomed before him now—tall, inhuman, his face a mask of darkness cracking with fury. "Then you will burn with her!"
Their powers collided—light against shadow, will against will. The shockwave tore through the dreamscape, splitting sky from ground.
For a heartbeat, Ryker thought he might win. He felt the King's power falter under his light.
But then the darkness shifted. Not retreating—adapting. It coiled around the light, bending it inward. Twisting it.
Ryker gasped as his own power turned against him, searing through his veins. The King's voice whispered, triumphant and cold:
"You can't destroy me, boy. You are my doorway."
And with that, the light shattered completely—leaving only silence.
Ryker fell into it, screaming, as the last echo of Akira's voice faded into the void
Akira's p.o.v
---
The air inside Elaren Keep turned sharp—too still, too heavy.
Akira froze, one hand still pressed against Ryker's chest. His body had begun to convulse, his pulse thrumming wildly beneath her fingers. His eyes flickered beneath their lids, darting back and forth as if trapped in some unseen nightmare.
"Ryker—hey, Ryker, listen to me!" she said, shaking him gently. "You're safe now. You're with me!"
But he didn't respond.
Instead, a low hum began to vibrate through the floor—deep, resonant, like the sound of thunder buried miles underground. The light from the runes she'd carved was flickering, dimming as a black mist began to coil from Ryker's mouth, his nostrils, the corners of his eyes.
Akira's stomach turned to ice.
"No… no, no, no, this can't be happening."
She gripped the mirror at her waist, channeling her energy through it, trying to pour her magic into him the way Lyra had once taught her—to anchor him. For a heartbeat, it seemed to work. The mirror glowed, light weaving through the cracks.
But then the light snapped, shattering into a thousand motes.
And Ryker screamed.
It was a sound that didn't belong to any human throat. His back arched violently as dark veins surged up his neck, crawling across his face. His hands gripped the floor, leaving scorch marks where his fingers touched.
Akira stumbled back, tears stinging her eyes. "Ryker, please—fight it! I know you can hear me!"
The storm outside answered her cry, lightning striking the ruined towers, thunder splitting the sky. The very air trembled as the black mist around Ryker thickened, swirling faster, taking shape.
A figure began to emerge.
The Shadow King.
His form was only half-solid—his cloak a swirl of darkness, his face obscured except for those burning violet eyes. His voice crawled through the hall like smoke.
"Did you really think you could take him from me?"
Akira raised her blade, though her hands were shaking. "You don't own him. You never did."
The King tilted his head slightly, and the air tightened around her. Invisible pressure crushed against her ribs, forcing her to her knees.
"He opened the door himself," the King said, his tone smooth, mocking. "All I did was step through."
"Then step back."
Akira thrust her sword into the ground. The runes around Ryker flared bright gold, bursting back to life with raw, desperate power. The light spread in lines, forming a sigil beneath them—a sealing circle, one her family's bloodline was meant to wield.
The King recoiled, his outline flickering. "Impossible. That magic was lost."
"Maybe," Akira said, forcing herself to stand, her blade trembling in her grasp. "But so was I."
The circle ignited fully. The storm above echoed its brilliance, lightning striking down in synchrony as wind and magic roared together.
For a moment, the King's form began to tear, his shadow writhing against the seal.
But Ryker's scream broke through again—and the circle faltered.
Akira looked down, horror rising in her throat. His hand had reached out, clutching hers weakly, but his eyes were open now—half violet, half their usual warm amber.
"Akira…" His voice was broken, layered with the King's. "He's—inside—can't—control—"
"Don't you dare give up on me!" she shouted, tears streaking her face. "You hear me, Ryker? I'll pull you out if I have to drag him through the fire myself!"
But the darkness in his veins pulsed violently, spreading faster. The King's laughter filled the hall again, echoing off the stone.
"Then burn with him."
The light collapsed inward. The seal shattered.
Akira was thrown back by the explosion of energy, slamming into a pillar. When she looked up through the haze and smoke, her blood ran cold.
Ryker stood where the King had been—his body trembling, eyes burning entirely violet. When he spoke, two voices answered in one:
"Akira… it's already too late."