The air doesn't break—
it rips.
A sound like tearing cloth and crushing stone echoes through May's living room as a thin, jagged split opens in the air, flickering like a dying flame.
Cold pours out of it.
Not normal cold.
A cold that feels aware.
A cold that feels hungry.
Nathel moves instantly, pulling May behind him, shielding her with his entire body.
"Don't look at him," he warns, voice low but trembling.
"Not directly. Not yet."
Too late.
She looks.
And the world tilts.
A shape stands at the center of the tear—tall, too tall, wrapped in a shadow that doesn't obey light. His edges blur, fade, sharpen—and his face is mostly hidden except for two burning, ember-like eyes that lock onto May with unnatural interest.
"Hello, little one."
May's breath stops.
Her fingers tighten on Nathel's arm.
"Stay behind me," Nathel repeats, voice breaking with the effort to keep calm. "He feeds on fear—don't give him anything."
The shadow figure tilts his head like he's amused.
"Oh, Nathel," he murmurs.
"You still underestimate me."
The lights flicker again. May's heart skips. The villain's voice seems to echo inside her mind, not in the room.
"You've grown weaker," the shadow says.
"Closer to her. And the closer you get… the easier you are to break."
Nathel's jaw clenches.
"Step away from the bond," he snaps. "Leave her out of this."
The shadow laughs softly—a sound that makes May's skin crawl.
"You say that as if you didn't already drag her into it."
He steps forward.
Nathel raises a shimmering barrier—a thin line of silver light pulsing from his hands.
The shadow touches it—
and it hisses like burning metal.
He doesn't recoil. He only smiles.
"This won't hold forever."
May feels the bond tremor violently. She grips Nathel's shirt from behind.
"Nathel… what does he want?" she whispers.
The shadow answers before he can.
"I want you, little one."
His voice slides through the room like smoke.
"You are the key to everything Nathel has tried to protect. You are the reason he's been unraveling since the bond reawakened."
May steps back.
"Me? Why?"
Those burning eyes brighten.
"Because your heart," he says softly, "is still bound to his."
Nathel stiffens.
"Don't listen to him," he warns.
But May can't tear her eyes away.
The shadow turns slightly, regarding Nathel with a look of heavy, cold amusement.
"She feels everything you feel," he murmurs.
"Your longing. Your regret.
Your love."
Nathel snaps, "Stop—"
"Oh, I struck a nerve?" the shadow says.
The tear widens.
The house groans.
The floorboards tremble.
May feels a pressure against her chest—like invisible hands pushing her backward.
Nathel senses it instantly and grabs her, pulling her into his arms.
"It's the bond," he whispers against her ear.
"He's forcing it. He's trying to rip it open."
Pain shoots through May's spine.
"N–Nathel…"
He holds her tighter.
"I'm here. Hold on. I won't let him."
The shadow finally drops his playful tone.
"You can't protect her forever," he growls.
"The bond belongs to me. And when I take it—"
His eyes lock on May.
"—I take her."
Nathel's entire body glows—silver and fierce—as power surges up his arms.
"Over my dead body," he snarls.
"That," the shadow replies, "can be arranged."
The tear lashes outward like a whip.
Nathel throws up a shield, but it cracks immediately, spiderweb lines shooting across its surface.
May screams as the force shoves them both backward into the wall.
Nathel pushes himself onto his knees, chest heaving.
"May…"
His voice is a strained whisper.
"When I say run—run."
She shakes her head violently.
"No—I'm not leaving you—"
"You won't have a choice."
The shadow steps fully through the tear now.
His presence fills the room like smoke filling lungs.
Nathel rises to his feet, eyes blazing, body shaking from the strain.
The shadow's voice drops to a low, lethal whisper:
"Let's end this."
May's heart stops.
The tear seals behind him with a final hiss.
Now he's here.
Fully here.
No barrier.
No distance.
Just Nathel.
May.
And the monster who broke them once—and is ready to break them again.