Pain returned first.
Not sharply. Not cleanly.
It seeped back into Riel's awareness like cold water flooding a drowned lung, heavy and invasive, filling every hollow space inside him until there was no room left to think.
He tried to breathe.
There was no air.
His chest convulsed uselessly as pressure built beneath his ribs, something pushing outward from inside him, swelling, stretching, crowding. His spine arched violently, muscles locking as something deep within his core twisted against its confines.
Too tight.
Too small.
Riel's mouth opened in a soundless scream.
The world around him—stone, sky, shadow—buckled as if reality itself recoiled from what was happening inside his body. The Red Field dissolved into abstraction, its colors bleeding away until only black and silver remained, layered endlessly upon themselves.
The pressure worsened.
It felt like his soul had grown too large for his body, like something ancient had unfolded inside him without permission. Every breath scraped raw against the inside of his ribs. His vision fractured into overlapping images—fields of crimson grass, endless dark plains, silver horizons that bent away from comprehension.
Then—
Something tore.
Not flesh.
Soul.
Riel felt it split him down the center.
Agony detonated through his existence as something forced its way outward from within him, ripping through his chest in a violent eruption of light. His ribs bowed grotesquely, shadow cracking apart like brittle glass as a blinding, pearl-white form burst free.
He screamed.
This time, sound existed.
The scream shredded its way out of him, raw and animal, vibrating through layers of reality as the thing emerged—dragging itself into being with deliberate brutality. Light peeled away from his sternum in long, viscous strands, stretching impossibly before snapping loose with thunderous force.
Each strand carried something with it.
Memory.
Fear.
Fragments of identity.
Riel felt them rip free one by one, leaving hollowness behind as the Soul Image pulled itself fully into existence.
It hovered inches away.
Perfect.
Impossibly so.
Its body was sculpted from flawless pearl light, smooth and unmarred, a form untouched by exhaustion or doubt. Where Riel's own body trembled and failed, this thing was still. Absolute. Finished.
Its face was his face.
Every angle exact.
Same sharp brows. Same strong jaw. Same familiar symmetry.
But empty.
Its eyes burned molten gold, brighter than stars, impassive and bottomless. There was no curiosity in them. No malice. No warmth.
Only recognition.
White hair cascaded down its back in weightless sheets—not hair at all, but strands of condensed light, flowing slowly as if suspended in deep water. Each strand glowed with quiet intensity, illuminating the surrounding void.
A crown of crimson radiance burned above its brow.
Jagged.
Broken.
The light bled shadow through its fractures, black veins leaking downward like ink through shattered glass. The space around the crown warped subtly, bending inward as though gravity itself bowed to its presence.
Riel felt his thoughts unravel under the pressure of it.
Then the wings unfolded.
Six of them.
They unfurled slowly, deliberately, stretching outward until they eclipsed everything behind the Image. Each wing was vast beyond measure, feathers forged entirely of silver-gold light, layered upon one another in impossible intricacy.
They did not move with air.
They moved with authority.
With their spread, the sky ruptured.
Blackness tore open above them, and stars flooded into existence by the thousands—too many, too close, crowding the firmament until the void was smothered in watching light.
They were not stars.
They watched.
Riel felt their attention pierce him all at once, countless points of awareness pressing into his mind. His vision blurred violently, blood trickling from his nose as his thoughts threatened to collapse beneath the weight of being seen so completely.
The Soul Image moved.
It closed the distance between them without effort.
Riel tried to crawl back.
Tried to scream again.
There was nowhere to go.
The Image's arms wrapped around him.
The embrace was violent.
Bone-crushing.
Light slammed into him from every direction as the grip tightened, ribs screaming as pressure surged inward. His spine arched with a sickening crack, nerves lighting up as pain tore through him.
He felt himself lift off the ground.
The pressure did not relent.
It increased.
Shadow surged upward from beneath him, responding instinctively, climbing his legs, his waist, his chest—pouring back into him as fast as it had been torn out. His body convulsed as it was dragged along with the tide, stretched and reforged by the overwhelming force.
Power flooded him.
Not gently.
Not mercifully.
It forced itself into every corner of his being, filling cracks he hadn't known existed, widening him to make room when there wasn't enough space. His bones elongated with grinding pressure, muscles tearing and reforming in rapid succession.
He felt himself grow.
Taller.
Heavier.
Denser.
His black hair spilled down his shoulders in thick waves, lengthening rapidly as energy threaded itself through every strand. His skin burned, nerves screaming as shadow and silver light fused beneath it, carving strength into his frame whether he could endure it or not.
He screamed again.
The Soul Image did not react.
Its face remained perfectly still, eyes locked onto him with unwavering focus, as if this violence was simply necessary. As if this was the only way it could have ever happened.
Then—
Chains erupted from above.
They crashed down through the Umbral Reaches with deafening force, black and silver links tearing through layers of reality like spears. Each chain wrapped around Riel's limbs, his torso, his throat—searing cold and burning heat at once.
They pulled.
Hard.
Riel felt himself tear.
The Soul Image tightened its grip in response, light flaring violently as chains wrenched him away. For a moment, he was stretched between worlds, his body unraveling at the edges, dissolving into writhing darkness that streamed along the chains like smoke.
The Image leaned closer.
Its forehead pressed against his.
There were no words.
No commands.
Only recognition.
Then the chains ripped him free.
The Umbral Reaches collapsed inward as Riel was dragged violently upward through layers of reality, screaming as existence tore past him in blinding streaks of color and shadow. His body dissolved entirely, fragments of darkness and light streaming along the chains as the stars vanished behind him.
—
Riel slammed back into himself.
He jolted upright in his bed, gasping violently as air tore into his lungs like knives. His body reformed in a rush of shadow, limbs stitching themselves together as darkness peeled away from his skin and sank into the floor beneath him.
The room was unchanged.
Morning light filtered weakly through the window.
No time had passed.
Riel staggered to his feet and caught sight of his reflection.
Molten gold eyes stared back at him.
A thin band of black inked their edges, bleeding inward like shadow staining light.
Behind him, his shadow stretched long and deep across the wall.
Still.
Waiting.
Then—
A whisper.
Soft.
Female.
So close it felt like it brushed his ear.
"Belze…"
The name echoed once—
Then vanished.
Riel stood frozen, golden eyes burning in the dim light, heart hammering as the weight of what had happened settled into his bones.
The First Image had been born.
And the world had noticed.