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The night was clear… too clear.
Raen awoke suddenly, drenched in cold sweat. The wall in front of him was pulsing—not breathing, pulsing. His eyes were seeing… something that should not be seen.
His shadow stood in the corner of the room, detached from him. It didn't move as an extension of him, but as a separate creature… watching.
"When was the last time you slept without seeing yourself dead?"He heard the whisper inside his head. It wasn't an echo.
⸻
The next day, Raen was to undergo an internal field evaluation in the training arena.
Before him stood three elite fighters:
• Saros: his body covered in stone armor.• Elin: master of wind, her eyes sharp and blue as a blade.• Mirai: wielder of light magic, shaping it into illusionary blades.
"The goal: endure without killing. Maximum force is forbidden," the instructor shouted.
But Raen… couldn't hold back.
In the first minute, he read Mirai's consciousness… and made her see herself drowning. She froze.
In the second, he pushed Saros to relive his father's death… the man dropped to his knees, screaming.
In the third, Elin tried to attack… only to find his own body refusing to obey.
Everything was under control… until it wasn't.
Raen began bleeding from his nose, then his ear. He collapsed to the ground, gasping.
"End the trial!" a commander yelled—but no one moved toward him.
It was his shadow that caught him… no one else.
⸻
That same day, he was summoned to the wing of Priest Malakai.
The air was scented with rare herbs—ones used only in soul separation rituals.
Malakai, drawing a circle with ash, said:
"The shadow is beginning to darken its host… This is dangerous."
Raen asked:
"Is this normal?"
The priest chuckled and replied:
"Nature has no idea what you are."
Then, more softly:
"Your resemblance to the Emperor… is only on the surface. What's inside you… is something else."
Raen stared at him for a long time.
"Are you saying I'm not his son?"
Malakai replied without looking at him:
"I'm not saying anything. I'm just opening windows."
⸻
In the hallway to his chamber, Raen passed a new maid, carrying healing scrolls and a hint of caution in her eyes.
"Her name is Arl," a guard murmured."Transferred from the Aron front… because of her skills."
His shadow whispered instantly:
"This one… will matter. Not now. Later."
⸻
In the deep hall—where no more than three people are allowed at once—Emperor Celius stood before a 3D map of the continent of Aron.
"They violated the Shadow Treaty," said Volcron, the Iron General.
"Did they ask for war?" Celius asked.
The general replied:"They sent their students to our borders… disguised as part of a cultural exchange."
The Emperor smiled.
"Then let's give them the culture they deserve."
He pressed his hand onto Aron's map. It contracted—sucked into the center of his palm.
"Declare mobilization. The war will last two years."
⸻
Back in his quarters, Raen stared at his reflection in the water.
He saw a face he didn't recognize. He heard his voice come out of a mouth he didn't control.
His shadow spoke:
"You're not collapsing… you're shedding the human shell."
Raen replied:
"If this is freedom… how much of me will be left in the end?"