Darkness.
No fire, no screams, no Evelyn calling her name. Just a void so vast it felt like falling without end. Clara stumbled forward, barefoot, her breath ragged. Each step echoed like a hollow drumbeat, reverberating into infinity.
Then came the voice. Smooth, deliberate, unbearably close.
"You've been running from yourself, Clara."
She whirled around. Yurin stood in the dark as if it belonged to him, his crimson eyes glowing faintly, his expression calm—almost tender. Not the monster her body had become, but a figure draped in shadows, perfectly still.
"This isn't real," Clara hissed. "This is just… some trick."
Yurin tilted his head, lips curving into a patient smile. "It's more real than anything you've clung to. The fire. The fear. The way you look at Evelyn and Damien and hope they can carry you through." He stepped closer, and though his footsteps made no sound, Clara felt the pressure of them in her chest. "But they can't. Not here. This place is yours. And I am already inside it."
Clara's fists clenched, nails biting into her palms. "Then I'll rip you out."
"Oh?" His tone was amused. "You think fury is enough? Go ahead then—strike me."
She lunged. Her fist swung through his chest, but her arm passed through like smoke. The void rippled. Yurin didn't flinch.
"Do you see?" His voice was soft, cruel. "You cannot touch me. Because I am not separate from you. I live in the fractures you refuse to face. Every doubt, every guilt, every whispered thought you bury—I am born from them."
Clara staggered back, breathing hard. "No—you're not me. You're… you're something else. A parasite."
Yurin chuckled. "Parasites only thrive in hosts that allow them. Do you know why you were chosen? Why I walked into your skin, and not Evelyn's or Damien's?"
She froze.
"Because you," Yurin whispered, his form dissolving into tendrils of shadow that slithered around her, brushing against her arms, her throat, "are already hollow. A vessel waiting to be filled."
Clara's chest constricted. Images flashed unbidden through her mind—her failure to save Evelyn years ago, the helplessness she felt when Damien bled in her arms, the quiet suspicion in Zeke's eyes whenever he looked at her. All the moments where she had thought: I am not enough.
"Stop it," she whispered, clutching her head.
"You think they'll choose you over their own survival?" Yurin's voice tightened, wrapping around her like chains. "Zeke already plots to kill you. Damien's resolve falters every time he sees Evelyn in danger. And Evelyn…" His voice softened into something like a mockery of pity. "She would burn herself away to save you, even if it meant hating you forever in the end."
Clara screamed, raw and desperate. "You're lying!"
The void trembled. Shadows split, revealing cracks of searing red light that pulsed beneath the black. Yurin's shape reformed in front of her, closer than ever, his hand lifting to press against her cheek. His touch burned cold.
"I don't need to lie, Clara. You already believe me."
Her knees buckled. She wanted to deny it, to claw the words out of her skull, but part of her knew—part of her feared—he was right.
And then—faint, fragile—another voice.
"Clara…"
She froze.
It wasn't Yurin. It wasn't her. It was Evelyn. Not in the void, but outside—bleeding through the darkness. Clara could feel it, tethered like a thread wrapped around her chest.
"Come back," Evelyn's voice whispered. "Please… I need you."
The shadows around Clara wavered. Yurin's eyes flicked, narrowing.
"That voice," he murmured, almost annoyed. "That tether again. She clings like ivy to a crumbling wall." His smile returned, sharper this time. "Let me show you how fragile it truly is."
He snapped his fingers.
The void shifted violently. Clara's knees hit stone. Before her, Evelyn appeared—not radiant and strong as she knew her, but broken, gasping, chains digging into her wrists as flames licked closer.
"Clara!" Evelyn screamed, terror in her eyes. "Please, don't let him—"
Clara lurched forward. "No! This isn't real!"
Yurin's laughter cut through. "Every chain here is forged from your fear, Clara. And if you break… she burns."
Clara shook, heart hammering, staring at the flickering image of her sister. She couldn't move. Every instinct screamed at her to run forward, to shatter the chains, to save Evelyn—but what if it was just another trap? What if acting here meant failing out there?
Yurin leaned close, whispering at her ear. "Choose. Save the illusion, or fight me. You cannot do both."
The void pulsed with heat, shadows tightening around her throat like a noose. Clara's nails dug into her palms until blood welled.
She remembered Evelyn's real voice, trembling but resolute. You're my sister. You're Clara.
And for the first time, she stopped running. She didn't lunge for Evelyn's image. She didn't swing blindly at Yurin's smoke-form.
She stood.
"No," Clara said, her voice breaking but steady. "You don't get to make me choose between lies. Evelyn isn't chains. She's my anchor."
The void trembled violently. Yurin's smile faltered.
And light—warm, golden—cracked through the darkness, flooding upward like a sunrise.
Clara's chest heaved. For the first time, she wasn't just resisting. She was fighting back.