The forest road stretched endlessly beneath their weary feet, trees whispering in the night breeze. Ezagone had not stopped talking for three hours straight.
"…and I'm telling you, brother, if we find an academy, I'm going to charm the teachers. Maybe they'll let me skip right to the top class. Or maybe I'll marry a goddess, become the headmaster, and make you my vice-head. Vice-head Zethra. It sounds dignified."
Zethra rubbed his temple. "It sounds stupid."
"Stupidly genius, you mean." Ezagone grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. "Admit it, you'd miss me if I didn't talk."
"Not true."
"Completely true."
Before Zethra could retort, Ezagone froze mid-step. His grin faltered, replaced by a sudden sharp gasp. His hand flew to his chest, and he stumbled, knees buckling.
"Ez!" Zethra caught him before he hit the dirt.
Heat radiated from his brother's skin, waves of raw energy crackling out like static. The air grew heavy, charged with a force Zethra knew too well: Aetherion.
Ezagone's eyes burned faintly silver, veins glowing like molten threads beneath his skin. His breath came ragged, each exhale leaving faint sparks in the air.
Zethra's pulse quickened. "No. Not now."
"You're lucky."
The voice slid silk-smooth into his ear, and when he turned, she was there.
Amethyst.
Scarlet fabric clung to every curve as she leaned lazily against a tree, her presence bending the shadows to her will. Fireflies seemed to gather just to illuminate her form, their glow outlining her like a living painting.
Her lips curved. "Your little brother is waking."
Zethra hissed, "You said he wasn't ready yet!"
"I said his spark stirs. Sparks don't wait for permission." She sauntered closer, hips swaying like the pendulum of some devilish clock. "If you do nothing, the Aetherion will rupture his body from within. A hybrid's awakening is chaos."
Ezagone groaned, clutching at his chest. His whole body shivered as if every bone rejected him at once. "Zeth… i-it burns—hah—I feel like I swallowed the sun."
Zethra gripped his brother's shoulders. "Stay with me, Ez! Don't you dare collapse on me."
"Can't collapse if I'm already on the ground," Ezagone wheezed, somehow still cracking a joke through clenched teeth.
Zethra's jaw tightened. "Tell me what to do, Amethyst!"
She knelt gracefully beside Ezagone, the crimson silk of her dress spilling like blood across the grass. Her hand ghosted above his chest, though she didn't touch him.
"Listen closely," she said, eyes locking with Zethra's. "Hybrids are unstable because their Aetherion doesn't choose one path—it splits. Angelic, devilish. To save him, you must seal the excess before it devours him."
"How?"
"Focus," Amethyst commanded, voice like velvet thunder. "Draw your own Aetherion outward—not to fight him, but to embrace his spark. Imagine binding it with your shadows, tying knots until it stills."
Zethra shut his eyes, pressing a hand over Ezagone's chest. Heat scorched his palm, burning like open flame. He gritted his teeth, letting his own Aetherion unfurl from within. Dark power coiled from his veins like smoke, spiraling around Ezagone's glowing form.
Ezagone let out a strangled laugh. "Hah… brother, you're hugging me too hard."
"Shut up and hold still!" Zethra barked, though relief pricked his heart. If Ez could still joke, he wasn't gone yet.
The shadows curled tighter, weaving like threads around the unstable light in Ezagone's body. The silver glow flickered wildly, resisting, thrashing like a beast.
Zethra growled, forcing more Aetherion into the seal. Sweat stung his brow. "It's—fighting me!"
Amethyst's voice slid through him, steady and sharp. "Do not fight his spirit. Guide it. Wrap it gently, like reins on a wild horse. If you crush it, you'll crush him."
Her hand brushed his shoulder, steadying him. Power surged clearer through his mind at her touch, her presence wrapping around him like a second skin.
"Trust me," she whispered. "And trust him."
Zethra exhaled slowly, easing the grip of his shadows. Instead of constricting, he wove them like silk threads, binding Ezagone's raging energy without smothering it. Slowly, the wild silver sparks dimmed, curling inward, until the light settled into a faint, steady glow.
Ezagone's breathing steadied. The glow beneath his skin faded, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.
When Zethra pulled his hand away, his brother slumped back against the ground, panting.
"…Did we win?" Ezagone croaked.
Zethra huffed a laugh, relief breaking through the tension. "You idiot. This isn't a battle."
"Sure felt like one," Ezagone muttered, then gave a weak grin. "Thanks… I knew you'd catch me if I fell."
The words stabbed deep, but in a good way. Zethra clenched his fist, swallowing hard. "…Always."
From the corner of his eye, he saw Amethyst watching, lips curved in that knowing smile. Her violet gaze lingered on Zethra as though she could peel open every layer of his heart.
"Well done," she murmured, voice almost tender. "You've sealed him—for now."
And just as suddenly as she appeared, she stepped back into the shadows, her form dissolving into the night.
Ezagone, oblivious, tugged weakly at Zethra's sleeve. "Hey… when I was glowing, did I look cool? Be honest. On a scale of one to dragon."
Zethra barked out a laugh despite himself. "You looked like a candle about to explode."
"Perfect," Ezagone sighed, eyes closing. "That's exactly the aesthetic I was going for."
Zethra shook his head, but his smile lingered as he kept watch over his brother, his heart still echoing with the touch of shadows—and the memory of a devil in red.