CHAPTER 8: Shadows of the Unknown. part 1
368 Words
Zayn woke with a start, sweat clinging to his skin. The shadows in his room flickered, restless, as if echoing the images that still burned in his mind.
The Old Third.
He saw her first, standing atop a floating tower in the Veiled Realm, hair dancing in the wind, laughter spilling from her lips. Strong. Fierce. Unstoppable. Warmth radiated from her in a way that made even the darkest corners of his memory ache.
Then flashes — fragments of moments he could barely piece together:
Her hands weaving the wind itself, twisting it around her enemies, yet always protecting the others.
A smile, soft but firm, steadied a younger Zayn when he faltered. “Believe in yourself,” her voice whispered through the shadows of his mind.
The other Old Four surrounded her, yet she remained the anchor, calm and unshakable, the center of their unity.
And then the darkness seeped in. Shadows crept, twisting her laughter, warping the surrounding light. Pain flickered in her eyes, a sharp reminder of loss and sacrifice. A hand reached out — and Zayn couldn’t grasp it. The memory blurred, a mix of fire, screams, and a bond broken too soon.
Guilt burned through him, sharper than the energy of any monster he had faced. He hadn’t been able to save her, and the weight of that failure pressed against him even now.
The shadows whispered, echoing faintly at the edges of the Realm. “She was your world… and now… your past bleeds into the present.”
He exhaled sharply, his voice low, almost a whisper. “I’ll do it right. I have to… for her. For May.”
A pulse of energy rippled faintly in the distance, like the heartbeat of the Realm itself. Danger was stirring. Shadows were shifting. The past was bleeding into the present, and Zayn knew that the Third Anchor — May — was going to be at the center of it all.
He rose from the floor, hands tightening into fists. His shadows coiled around him protectively, a dark mantle of vigilance. Today, the Realm felt heavier, charged, like a storm waiting to break.
And deep down, he knew he couldn’t let history repeat itself.
- Writer
