Kaelen helped Henry sit up, his genuine concern a small spot of warmth in the cold, silent courtyard. "That was insane," Kaelen said. "She had no right. I'm going to report this to Master Kael, I'm—"
"Don't," Henry cut in, his voice hollow. "She was right."
He looked down at his own hands, the same hands that had held a sword and unleashed that chaotic light. Useless. He was useless. From a distance, Helia watched them, her expression impossible to read.
"Henry, don't say that—"
"Leave him, boy," Helia's voice cut through, calm and final. She approached, her presence making Kaelen instinctively shrink back. "Your loyalty is admirable, but this isn't a wound that friendship can heal." She turned her golden gaze on Henry. "Get up. Your lesson isn't over."
With Kaelen's help, Henry struggled to his feet, every muscle screaming in protest. He gave Kaelen a grateful nod, a silent message that his friend seemed to understand. The messy-haired boy backed away, giving Henry one last worried look before leaving the courtyard.
The walk back to the Solstice Tower was silent. Each step felt like it weighed a ton. The humiliation was a heavy cloak on his shoulders. He wasn't just a failure; he was a public one.
They reached their rooms in the tower, where the warm air and soft light felt more like a prison cell than a sanctuary. Henry just sat on the edge of his bed, waiting. Waiting for the sun to set. Waiting for the change to take him, to offer a temporary escape from his own pathetic inadequacy.
"You hate the night, don't you?" Helia spoke, breaking the tense silence. She wasn't watching him like a warden now. She was talking to him like… a mentor. Henry didn't answer.
"You hate him because he's strong," she went on. "And you fear your own light because it's uncontrollable. You see yourselves as two separate beings trapped in the same body. A prisoner and a monster. A dog and a wolf." She stood in front of him. "That is your first and greatest mistake. As long as you see them as separate, they will always be at war. And the battlefield," she tapped his temple again, lightly, "is you. A war like that has no winner. Only destruction."
Henry finally looked up. "So what do I do? How do I fight a monster that's me?"
"You don't fight," Helia said. "You integrate."
Henry just stared at her, confused. "Integrate?"
"Balance," she clarified. "Not the balance of two opposing forces pushing against each other. The balance of hot and cold water mixing to become something new. Neither the light nor the dark can be your master. They must both become your tools. You are not the day or the night. You must become the twilight that stands between them."
A tiny, golden flame danced on her fingertip. "Your training up to now has been pointless. Teaching you how to fight is like handing a sword to a drowning man. Starting tomorrow, everything changes. Your only task will be this: find the center. You won't summon light or shadow. You will try to hold both. In your mind. In your hand. Even for a second. You will find the twilight within."
Her words hung in the air, an idea so strange, so impossible, that Henry could barely wrap his head around it. Hold both? The chaotic light and the devouring darkness? Together?
As he wrestled with the thought, he felt the change begin. The familiar cold, the stirring of power. His muscles tensed. But as the darkness claimed him, Helia's last words didn't fade away. They remained, an echo in the mind that was just waking up.
Henry's eyes snapped open, now a deep crimson. The arrogance and power were there, but underneath, there was a new glint. A flicker of cold, calculating curiosity.
The night-Henry rose, rolling his shoulders as he settled into the body. He looked at Helia, who didn't flinch.
"Twilight," he murmured, his voice a smooth baritone. The word felt strange on his tongue. He looked at his own hand, picturing it holding not just the shadows he commanded effortlessly, but also the searing light that hurt him. The idea was repulsive. And… intriguing.
*What a ridiculous idea,* Tsukuyomi's voice laughed in his mind. *Mixing oil and water? Purity and power? She's insane.*
"Perhaps," the night-Henry said aloud, a slow, dangerous smirk spreading across his face as he looked at his solar guardian. "Or perhaps she just made things a whole lot more interesting."
The battle for Henry's soul had just taken a very weird turn. It was no longer about suppression or domination. Now, it was about an impossible synthesis. And for the being of the night, a new path to absolute power might have just revealed itself.