Aramith opened his eyes to a world he neither understood nor found familiar.

There was no sky, and there was no real land. The world he knew had disappeared, and in its place was an endless expanse of formless destruction.

The ground stretched in jagged, broken pieces. Fire burst out from underneath, crashing like waves, rumbling beneath, and leaping up to swallow.

It looked broken, hopeless, devoid of life, and frightening.

It should have been terrifying. It was not.

He wasn't afraid, but rather drawn in and wanting to stay.

The flames that licked around him didn't feel hot. He wasn't cold either, and he didn't sense danger.

It was all too familiar, and he couldn't understand why he felt so connected to it.

"So you've finally arrived, child of shadow...."

The voice drifted soothingly into his mind. familiar, yet unfamiliar.

He turned toward the voice and saw a girl unlike anything he'd ever seen.

What first drew him in wasn't her sparkling skin that seemed to be formed from a thousand skies, nor the glowing star embedded in her chest, right between her clavicles.

And it wasn't her hair that was woven from a thousand midnights and eternal dawns.

It was her eyes. They sparkled like a thousand suns and moons mixed together in an elixir of dawn and night.

And her smile. It was soft, soothing, and knowing.

They pulled him like a magnet, and he couldn't look away. Something about them made him want to protect her. What left his lips next surprised him more than the girl.

"Such beautiful eyes..."

The girl's smile suddenly disappeared, her expression replaced with shock and confusion. Then she smiled again.

"That's a strange thing to say considering you're the one who made me," she said.

"Made you?" He asked

She laughed, twirling above the fractured ground like weight meant nothing. The sound should have been playful, but something in it rang hollow.

"Yes, you created me," she said.

But Aramith didn't understand her.

I created you?

Her steps brought her close enough that he unconsciously retreated. But she reached out, touched his cheek, and whispered as though speaking to something fragile.

"Look what they've done to you."

He allowed her, and her hand felt soft, cold, warm, rough—Unreal.

"I have waited for a very long time, and so let me show you the truth."

"The truth?" Aramith repeated.

The girl nodded and pointed. Aramith looked, and the space rippled into a scene.

A girl being bullied at night by a grown man. Several surround her, and when things escalate, a boy comes in.

This was a scene he knew all too well.

He'd dreamt this dream so many times, and in every one of them, he'd kill them, say the same words, feel the same thrill, and do his best to remain calm.

But when he woke up, it felt too distant.

It looked like something he could do, but the dream made him feel like a totally different person.

"How do you know this?"

As the dream played, she turned to him.

"I live in you, how can I not know this?"

"What do you mean by that?" Her answers remained elusive to him.

The girl stretched her hands out and spun once. "Look around you, where do you think we are?"

Aramith glanced at his surroundings. He'd already taken a good look, but no matter how familiar the place was, he couldn't identify it in his memories.

"I don't know," he replied.

"But it's familiar, right?"

Aramith nodded before he even knew it.

A wall of fire rose between them, but he wasn't bothered by it. It didn't burn him nor made him feel warm in the slightest.

It was harmless to him.

His chest tightened.

"And how long…" his voice cracked against the silence, "…how long have you been here?"

Her expression softened, but her words landed like weights.

"Over a hundred years."

Aramith's breath stilled.

"But… that's impossible," he said.

Her next words cut even deeper.

"I appeared here when you were three years old."

The world lurched. His mind screamed—three years old? That would mean…

"But that doesn't make sense!"

"It doesn't," she admitted. "Not in your realm. But here… time flows differently. A single day outside can stretch into a year within this place. While the world barely changed, I endured a century of waiting."

His fists trembled. The desolation suddenly felt colder.

"Why?" His whisper barely carried. "Why would anyone do this to me?"

Her eyes glistened. "Because they fear you."

The girl stepped forward again. She pointed at the fire. "Don't you find it strange that you don't feel any pain?"

He didn't respond.

"This place doesn't support any life, and it remains a very dangerous place to be in. Though I'm the only one..." Her voice trailed off.

She hopped, hovering just a few inches off the ground.

"This place was formed from darkness. Darkness that lives in you."

Aramith flinched at the word darkness.

She looked directly into his eyes as she added, "This is your cultivation realm, Aramith."

Aramith looked around, utterly confused.

But where are the steps? The gates?

"This isn't a cultivation realm," he said finally.

"You're different. You don't even belong to this world."

Not of this world?

She spread her hands toward the broken infinity."This is your realm, Aramith. Not a prison, not a dream—but the marrow of your soul. You wonder why it is filled with desolation? Because they shackled you. They bound your birthright in chains, fearing what you might become. You're special."

But Aramith still felt lost. Again, he wondered.

Gates? Steps? Where are they?

Questions whirred in his mind. He needed answers. And as he looked at her, she understood him.

"You have doubts, you have questions, and you want to know so much. You have been hesitant, confused, but all that wasn't just weakness. There are many against you, and so much has been hidden from you."

She opened her hand, revealing a peculiar object. "For as long as I have been in this realm, I have kept your essence. I stored it all and waited for the day I could give it to you. Take this seed and all your answers shall be answered."

Aramith stared at the seed.

It shimmered and twisted like a caged star, calling to him with an urgency he couldn't resist. His hand trembled as he reached for it—not out of curiosity, but as though something deep within him demanded it.

"Tell me, Aramith. What kind of person are you? And what goals do you have?"

Goals, person?

He thought about it, but nothing filled the emptiness of his mind.

"I—" He couldn't answer.

"You used to have a mind of your own. I saw it all. But it was taken from you. Reclaim what was yours."

Her voice softened, almost tender. "But know this, Aramith. Once you take it, you will never return to the boy you were. The abyss will open its eyes through yours, and you must choose what you will do with that sight. You will hate."

Aramith hesitated. He stared at the seed in confusion, but then again, he knew within him that it belonged to him.

He pressed it to his lips. The instant it touched his tongue, the seed shattered like lightning inside him.

A shockwave rippled outward. The ground convulsed. Jagged shards of land buckled and sank as rivers of black fire poured toward him, converging at his feet like shadows obeying their master.

Aramith staggered back, clutching his chest. The dizziness was overwhelming.

His breath hitched—then steadied. His vision sharpened, no longer clouded. For the first time, the darkness that had always lashed out wildly… bowed to him.

He raised his hand without thinking, and the words poured from his lips like instinct."Hell's Blade."

The shadows swirled, hardened, and a sword coalesced in his grip—sleek, jagged, a living extension of the abyss itself. It hissed and cracked, yet he felt only clarity, not fear.

"This…" Aramith whispered, staring at the weapon. "…This is me."

He looked up at her sharply. "That dream you showed me. Those weren't illusions. They were my memories."

"Correct," she said softly.

"Why did I forget them? Why did I lose control of my power?"

Her gaze dimmed. "You already know who can twist the mind so deeply. He feared what you would become, so he bound your intelligence, shackled your essence. You were molded into an obedient child."

The blade in his hand quivered as if resonating with his fury. "Henndar…"

"Yes." Her voice wavered. "But I salvaged what I could—your essence, your strength, your mind. The memories, I could not restore. All I can do is let you watch them now, piece by piece."

The space rippled again. Images flooded before him—childhood laughter, shadows of battles, Mozrael's face smiling, then crying, Lia, Kethra, Kesha, Lynnor's watchful gaze. Each memory cut deeper, a truth stolen and returned.

Aramith's jaw clenched. His grip on Hell's Blade tightened.

Then came the final revelation—Mozrael, standing beside him, bound by invisible chains of light.

"She was altered too," the girl said. "Her will shackled to yours. She cannot leave your side, not truly. That is why she clings to you so desperately."

His knees nearly buckled. Mozrael's laughter, her warmth—was it all forced? He wanted to scream no. He wanted to believe it was real. But the chains burned in his mind, undeniable.

"And the others?" His voice cracked. "Lia. Kesha. Why were they taken from me? Why strip their faces from my memory?"

The girl hesitated. "…That, even I do not know. Perhaps Henndar feared their bond with you. Perhaps they were meant for something worse."

"What about Lynnor?!" His voice thundered now. "Does she know?"

Her silence was answer enough.

The ground split with the force of his rage. Darkness bled from his blade like smoke devouring the horizon. His eyes burned violet, sharp and merciless.

For the first time, he said Henndar's name not as a father, but as an enemy."Henndar...that man… is a monster."

The girl flinched at the weight of his voice.

Aramith raised Hell's Blade, its shadow spilling outward.

"If no one will give me the truth, then I'll carve it out of him myself."

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