On the night the city went dark, no one noticed the first rupture—that deep tremor resembling a giant stone dropping into a bottomless well.
Only Arin Savar felt something fracturing inside him, something like his memories but not truly part of them… something that had been asleep for ages, hiding in the dark, waiting to be summoned by accident.
Arin was a philosophy instructor at Evalon University, a quiet man to the point of suspicion; he never grew angry, never laughed loudly, and never seemed surprised by anything. Students believed he had reached the state of detachment he always spoke about in his lectures, that condition he explained with a faint smile:
"Once a person realizes everything he sees is only as real as he believes it to be, the world begins to crumble on its own."
But that night, as he left the lecture hall, he noticed something that had never happened before.
His shadow didn't move with him.
He froze.He lifted his right foot—the shadow lifted nothing.He raised his hand—the shadow stayed still, as if drawn on the floor.
For the first time in many years, his heart clenched.
He approached it slowly.Students passing behind him noticed nothing unusual.Even when he stood directly over his shadow, no one sensed the world had tilted.
He whispered,"…Is this a warning?"
When he stretched his fingers to touch the edge of the dark shape beneath him, he felt a coldness that wasn't cold—a total absence of warmth, an absence of everything.
Then a voice echoed inside his head:
— You are late, Arin.
He jumped back, but the voice didn't come from outside.It came from a point deep within, as if a buried part of himself had awakened and begun speaking with its own voice.
"Who… are you?"
— Your true reflection.
Then it happened.
The shadow expanded like black liquid seeping from an impossible place.It was no longer flat—it rose like heavy smoke, forming the shape of a tall man with no features, no face, just a hollow silhouette filled with distant whispers.
Arin stepped back.The entity spoke with a voice made of silence:
— You have cracked… and the world will collapse with you.
The air vibrated, and two corridor lights shattered.Students screamed and fled the building, but nothing seemed to see them—or care.
Arin swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady:"Why now? Why appear?"
— Because you remembered what you were meant to forget.
He didn't understand.Or maybe he understood too well… but refused to accept it.
Suddenly, images surged through his mind:a sandy temple on the edge of a forgotten world,a child holding a book no one could read,men in gray garments chasing their own shadows,and a woman whispering, "When the shadow stops obeying you… know that time has shattered."
"These… aren't my memories."
— They are older than you.
Silence fell.A heavy, suffocating silence where even the city's noises vanished.Cars disappeared.Wind disappeared.Everything stopped.
Only Arin and the entity could move.The city was frozen—but not dead.It was waiting.
"What do you want from me?"Arin asked, feeling himself slowly unraveling.
— I want you to choose.
"Choose what?"
— To reclaim your past… or destroy your future.
The walls began to crack.Lights burst.Air collapsed like glass.
"Does my choice matter…?"
A vibration echoed like laughter:
— The world was built upon your first choice.Now you must make it again.
A hand-shaped mass of shadow extended toward him.
— Come, Arin… The Era of Shards has begun.
As he stepped toward the darkness, he felt something peel off him:his name,his image,his memories—as though time was rewriting itself.
When everything faded, only one phrase echoed:
— The mirror does not reflect the truth…It reflects what you fear becoming.
And just before the void swallowed him, he understood one thing:
The shadow that rebelled wasn't his shadow.It was him.