Scene 1 – The Weight of the Blade
The golden void hung in silence after the explosion.
Not silence of peace—silence of pressure. Every mote of light pressed down like a mountain, every breath felt stolen from the edge of a blade.
Jemil's hand was still outstretched, inches from the predator-blade's hilt. His fingers trembled, veins lit with searing light as the curse writhed up his arm like molten shackles. The burning mark across his chest pulsed in rhythm with the colossal weapon, as though his very heart had been chained to its will.
Take me… the blade whispered, the sound not in his ears but inside his skull, slithering into thought. Take me, and never bend again. Power without betrayal. Chains that hold only others—never you.
Jemil's jaw clenched. Sweat rolled down his cheek, evaporating before it touched his jawline. The weight of the offer pressed against his very bones, a temptation not of flesh alone, but of his deepest fear—being abandoned, betrayed, broken again.
