Kalen sat at the foot of a scorched tree. All the spiders were scattered around the perimeter, and Ward stood leaning against a shadow like a statue. The Ice Forest around them was cracking and rebuilding, as if reality itself was recoiling from what he was doing.
And then... his back shuddered.
The tattoo—alive, pulsating, blackening into absolute darkness—unfolded.
It was as if a layer of skin had been lifted. Something ancient had broken through. A skull, horns, and a body of black smoke, patterned with designs. From its back emerged the silhouette of a dragon, the same one—enormous, translucent, with eyes that held nothing but an abyss.
"You've survived again," a voice inside rumbled.
Kalen grimaced.
"Didn't you come out when the icy wind was burning my guts?"
The dragon grinned. Or was it just a crack in its face?
"Because you have to go through everything. By yourself. The shadow is not a shield, it is rot. Whoever does not accept it will die. You have accepted it. You are growing. But..." the dragon leaned closer. "Are you still human?"
Kalen remained silent. This time, he really didn't know.
The dragon disappeared as abruptly as it had appeared. Ward looked at it directly.
"You called me," he said with iron-clad calmness.
Kalen turned to Tirk:
— What are the chances of summoning Beste as your shadow?
Tirk didn't blink:
"One in a million. And that's if she were alive. And she's... well, you cut her out, Master. Dust."
Wardes chuckled:
"Even if you succeed, you won't be able to hold it. It's too strong. Your magic is unstable."
Kalen stood up. He stretched his shoulders. An oily black shadow dripped from his hands like tar.
— Fuck him. I'm stubborn.
Attempt #1.
Failure. Just a flash and a pool of blood.
Attempt # 57.
The shadow began to take shape... but it exploded immediately. Kalen was thrown twenty meters away. Tirk silently healed him.
Attempt #302.
The shadow began to hiss, swallowing its own silhouette. An unknown abomination emerged from it, and Kalen barely managed to destroy it.
Attempt #1283.
He was on his knees. His hands were trembling. A circle of shadows had formed around him. Ward's blades were embedded in the ground. The spiders were silent. And the shadow thickened.
A figure appeared. A woman's figure. Distorted by ice, but no longer so detached. Not the same Beste... but its echo.
She opened her eyes.
Slowly. Wearily. Looking at Kalen with such hatred, as if he had personally destroyed her world.
"You're fucking me up," she said hoarsely.
Kallen collapsed on his back and exhaled:
"Likewise, sweetheart."
She stepped forward. Her hair was covered in frost. Her fingers were like ice knives. Her body was translucent, with black patterns like Ward's.
"Conditions?" — What is it? " she asked.
"Listen to me. Do not harm anyone without my orders. Death is only by my will."
She rolled her eyes, hissed, but... she touched his shadow.
And at that moment, the world shook.
Beste became the third shadow.
Ward bowed his head. Tirk silently retreated into the shadows. The spiders retreated.
Kallen lay there, pulsing with shadows, and spoke through gritted teeth.
"Another one, and I'll start to fear myself."
Beste stood next to him. Her icy aura was restrained, but it still froze the air.
"I will be silent... but I will not forgive," she said.
He chuckled:
— That would be too easy.