As the unknown entity overtook Angelo's body, his consciousness drifted to a place beyond understanding—a vast, silent void.
His eyes were closed at first, as if he were asleep. But as he jolted awake, he saw nothing—only darkness stretching endlessly. He couldn't see anything except his own body, couldn't hear anything but his heartbeat. There was no ground beneath his feet, yet he was still standing on the nothingness.
He shouted into the void, "Hello!? What is this place?"
He looked at his hands and muttered, "Where the hell am I? I was…wait. Where was I? What was I doing?"
Placing both hands on his head, he tried to remember. "Think, Angelo, think. What was I doing before I opened my eyes?"
After a few moments, it came to him—everything. His family. The town. The monster stampede. How Sophia had bought them some time. How everything was falling apart.
His heart started to pound. "I need to go back and help them."
He started running frantically through the void, not knowing where he was going—or if there even was a direction. Panic took over.
"Where the fuck am I!? I can't waste time here. They need me!"
But the more he ran, the more it felt like the void itself refused to move. No matter how far he pushed himself, everything stayed the same—silent, endless, and hollow.
He slowed down.
At first, just a few hesitant steps.
Then slower.
Until even his breathing began to match the drag in his pace.
"Wait… do they even need me?"
His footsteps softened against the nothing beneath him, like even the void didn't care enough to echo back.
"How am I supposed to help them, exactly?"
He came to a stop. His voice felt smaller.
"I can't do anything close to what Sophia can. I'm not as smart as Alex. I don't have Dad's courage… or Mom's will."
He looked down at his hands—they seemed smaller now. Fragile.
"What good am I for? I just cause problems for my family… for everyone."
The words lingered in the air, heavy and quiet.
He wanted to stop thinking—but his mind wouldn't listen.
Each thought felt like a whisper he couldn't silence.
He tried to breathe, but something pressed against his chest, invisible and cold.
He wasn't crying—but it felt like he could, if he let himself.
Though he couldn't see, hear, or touch anything, he felt something in that place. Something strange. The sensation was eerie, yet familiar—like he had always belonged there.
Then he heard it. A faint sound. It wasn't clear enough to make out, but he heard it.
Before he could move, a pull seized him—like falling, but forward. It lasted only a moment, yet when it ended, Angelo knew he was somewhere else.
Before him stood two thrones, facing each other in the endless void. They floated, like him, suspended in nothing.
One throne gleamed with radiant, almost blinding light—as if it were the essence of creation itself. It pulsed with warmth, calm, and unyielding order.
The other was its opposite: deep crimson, glowing faintly like dying embers. It radiated raw destruction, not chaotic but deliberate—purposeful, final. An unstoppable force that brought ruin not by chance, but by design.
The crimson throne sat empty, its presence heavy and foreboding.
But upon the white throne, a figure sat—silent, unwavering. Its eyes burned like coals, reflecting the seat it claimed.
Angelo felt an immediate connection to the white being, as though it had always existed somewhere in the shadows of his mind.
The being spoke, its voice calm yet commanding.
"Welcome home."
The words echoed in his head like a memory half-remembered. It was the same voice that had once whispered to him—to embrace both light and dark, but never let the void take over.
Angelo stepped back, alarmed. "What are you? What do you want from me?"
The white being answered with unsettling calm.
"I am you. And you are me."
Angelo recoiled, confusion twisting his expression. "What? What are you talking about? No… this can't be real. I'm human. I'm not like you. My family—they need me. I have to help them!"
The white being tilted its head, studying him.
"You already have," it said. "That is why the crimson throne sits empty. It went to help them… and to bring destruction."
Angelo's voice grew desperate. "What do you mean? Prove it. Show me they're safe."
"Have a seat," the white being said, its tone gentle yet unyielding.
A third throne emerged before Angelo. It was neither radiant nor crimson—neither light nor shadow. A blank slate, colorless and undefined. A throne that represented nothing and everything at once.
The three thrones formed a triangle, each facing the center point between them.
Angelo flinched. "What the… where did this come from?"
The white being reassured him. "It's alright. It won't eat you up."
"Not very reassuring," Angelo muttered, lowering himself onto the neutral throne.
The moment he sat, the void shifted—alive, aware.
The white being spoke again. "What do you think you are?"
Angelo hesitated, then whispered, "I'm human." His voice faltered. "That's what I'd like to believe. But everything changed when the marks appeared. Since then… I haven't been the same."
The white being's eyes flickered with something unreadable.
"The marks didn't change you. They protected you—from what you truly are. And they protected those around you. What you call 'change' is nothing more than the consequence of returning to what you were always meant to be."
For a moment, his gaze wavered. The defiance in his eyes dimmed—like he wanted to protest, but part of him already knew it was true.
A flicker of movement stirred. Another presence took shape—the crimson being materialized on its throne, leaning forward with an unnerving grin.
"The vessel… is still too weak."
Angelo's heart raced. He knew that voice—it was the same one that whispered when the marks spread.
He froze, his voice trembling. "Who are you? What are you? Why do you speak to me when the mark starts to spread?"
The crimson being leaned back, laughter low and mocking.
"That? I just give you a heads-up before the mark evolves. But more importantly…" It leaned forward, grinning wider. "What do you think we are?"
Angelo gripped the armrests of his throne, his hands shaking. "You're monsters."
The crimson being laughed louder, a sound that made the void vibrate.
"Then that makes you a monster too."
The white being spoke again, tone unchanging. "Listen, vessel."
Then, in a voice both serene and terrible, the two beings spoke in unison:
"We are you. And you are us."
Angelo's eyes widened. His hands trembled at those words.