Kresos was falling again.
No wind. No sound. No weight. Just the gut-deep sensation that the world had vanished beneath him. Nothing above, nothing below. Only the stillness of a place that existed between moments.
And then—he was standing.
Not with impact. No crash, no pain. He was just there. Barefoot, balanced on something that felt like ground, though it wasn't. All around him: black. Not the soft dark of sleep, but a void so absolute it pressed in from every direction, thick as oil. No light. No source. But somehow… he could see.
Because it was here again.
The shadow.
Same as before—vaguely human, but not. Its form bled into the darkness like smoke into smoke, no edge, no limit. Its eyes were twin pits of endless night, dragging the gaze like gravity. It didn't glow. It consumed.
"You've gotten yourself into trouble," the thing said, voice dry, amused. Like someone watching a bird try to fly with broken wings.
Kresos clenched his fists.
He could still feel the cage bars on his skin. The bruises. The helplessness.
He stepped forward, voice sharp. "Where the hell were you? I did what you told me—I severed the link, I killed him! So where were you?"
The humor vanished.
A silent pulse rippled from the shadow's core, heavy as thunder. The air recoiled. Kresos staggered back, breath caught in his throat.
"Pathetic human," the voice hissed. "Did you truly believe I have nothing better to do than shadow your every step? You are owed nothing. You simply caught my attention — for now."
The words hit harder than fists. But the fire in Kresos didn't go out.
"Then what are you?" he snarled. "A demon? A Djinn?"
A pause.
Then a low, ancient hum. Not quite sound—more like pressure from the deep.
"When the time is right," the shadow said slowly, "you'll know what I am. But not here. Not yet."
Kresos grit his teeth. "Then when?"
The darkness deepened, swallowing the question whole.
And then the voice came again—just one word:
"Salham."
It hit like a drumbeat in his chest.
Kresos blinked. "Salham? That's across the sea. I don't have a boat. I don't even have shoes!"
The shadow chuckled—soft and joyless.
"True strength demands sacrifice. Distance means nothing to those with purpose. If you seek power—if you wish to reclaim your legacy... or surpass it—then find your way."
Kresos stared at the figure. His pulse thundered. Every part of him wanted to scream. But deep down, he already understood.
There would be no hand to hold. No easy path.
Only a goal.
And a price.
The shadow raised one hand.
Darkness twisted across its palm like liquid tar. Heavy. Wriggling. Alive. The air turned thick, electric—then it moved. A spear of black smoke launched toward him like a living thing.
"Here," it said. "A gift. A taste of what awaits you when we meet in person."
Kresos barely had time to breathe.
The blackness hit him in the mouth and forced its way inside. Down his throat. Burning. Clawing. Writhing like something alive. His lungs filled with smoke. His veins caught fire. His skin went white-hot with agony.
He dropped to his knees, convulsing.
The pain wasn't human. It was something more. Something worse. A scream tore up his throat—but never made it out.
Then—
Shatter.
*****
He woke up with a jolt.
A gasp clawed out of his lungs. His chest heaved. Sweat soaked his skin, cold and slick. For a second, he wasn't in the cage. He was still choking. Still burning.
Then the haze faded. The pain didn't.
Rusted bars above. Damp dirt below. Pale light leaking in through cracks in the stone.
Rhea's voice broke through the ringing in his ears.
"You okay?" she asked, already sitting up. Her eyes searched his face, cautious, concerned. "You were shaking."
Kresos wiped his brow with the back of his hand.
"Just a dream," he muttered. He didn't meet her eyes.
She didn't push.
He pulled his knees to his chest and stared down at the ground, trying to calm the storm in his chest. But he could feel it.
Something was wrong.
Or... changed.
His whole body buzzed with a pressure that hadn't been there before. Not pain—something deeper. Like heat without fire.
It sat in his chest like a beast.
He closed his eyes and tried to pull at it. Call it. Trigger it.
Nothing.
Just silence. And that same low hum, buried in his blood.
He pressed a palm to the floor. Focused.
Still nothing.
No flame. No guidance. No voice.
He gritted his teeth.
The shadow had promised him a gift. Was this it? A weight in his ribs and a headache behind his eyes?
Useless.
He exhaled slow, steady. No time to dwell.
The buyer would arrive in hours. A man with gold, influence, and a place to lock them away until they broke.
'I need to figure this out before then', Kresos thought. 'Whatever it gave me… it has to be the key.'
He looked up at the sky.
Time was slipping.
And whatever was stirring inside him…
…it needed to wake up. Now.