The light wasn’t light anymore. There were thousands of voices whispering inside my skull, inside my ribs, and even in the air itself—heartbeat, memory, hunger. My shadows knelt, they did not move.
At first, the thing emerging from the c***k was shapeless, but then it started to take shape: eyes that reflected mine, wings made of torn night, and spine of molten silver. It wasn't a creature. The world could be swallowed by the size of the reflection.
Its voice came simultaneously from nowhere and everywhere.
Ravenna.
My knees gave way. I couldn’t tell if I was hearing it or remembering it. The voice was too close, too familiar.
“You’ve carried my pulse since birth,” it said. “Every shadow, every tear, every whisper of fear that made you reach for fire—mine.”
“I don’t want it,” I rasp
