Erevan's breath rasped harshly in the darkness of his chamber. Each inhale was jagged, scraping against his ribs like broken glass. Time had long since lost its meaning here—hours, maybe days, he didn't know. He hugged his knees to his chest, arms tight around them, as if the simple act of holding himself upright could tether him to some fragment of reality.
The candle had long since died, leaving nothing but the suffocating black pressing in from all sides. And yet, the room was not silent. The air hummed faintly, a vibration crawling over his skin, prickling like distant thunder trapped inside stone. Every nerve ending screamed in alert. Something was there. Something he could feel but not see.
[She calls to you.]
The voice threaded through his mind, smooth as water creeping into cracks. Not a whisper this time, but deeper—digging straight into the marrow of his thoughts. Erevan's skull throbbed as the words echoed.
[She descends. Foolish girl. Her flame burns weakly in the dark, but still she comes. For you.]
He snapped his eyes open into the void. Darkness swirled, thick and unyielding, yet even without sight, he sensed her—Aria. A delicate, hesitant thread of warmth pulled toward him, like sunlight slipping through the cracks of stone.
Aria…
"She's here?" His voice was hoarse, breaking against the silence. He needed proof. Needed sound.
The laughter that followed was low and curling, slow and deliberate. It wasn't cruel—it was patient, invasive, curling inside his mind and refusing to leave.
[She comes because she cannot let go. She comes because she fears what you are. She clings to the idea of you as fragile, broken, small. But what she will find…]
The darkness shifted, thick and alive around him. Erevan gasped sharply, clutching at his chest as a tug curled inside him. Something had latched onto his core, pulling with surgical precision, like a tether drawn from deep inside his ribs.
[…what she will find is me.]
His body convulsed involuntarily. He pressed his forehead to his knees, fists burning from being clenched so tightly. Breath came jagged, uneven—scalding hot in his chest yet cold as the stone beneath him. Heat and frost tangled in his veins.
"Stop…" he whispered, ragged, almost pleading.
The voice's reply was patient, silky, unrelenting.
[Why resist? She is already at the gate. Already reaching. You could tear it down, Erevan. You could open the path between you. With but a thought, she would be at your side.]
The pull intensified. A subtle pressure pressed from the shadows, brushing against him like a hand through glass—delicate, distant, insistent. Her voice followed, thin, trembling, unmistakable.
I'm not leaving you…
Erevan shuddered, throat tight. He wanted to call her name, wanted to answer, but the darkness weighed heavier than his will—pressing down, eager, demanding.
[Yes…] the voice whispered, slick and coaxing. [Call her. Let her come. Let her see you not as the boy they have chained, but as what you are. Then she will understand. Then she will kneel.]
"No," Erevan rasped, forcing the word past the pressure pressing against his lungs. "She doesn't fear me. She—"
[She does.] The voice struck sharply, louder, hammering into him.
[Why else does she linger at the bars instead of tearing them down? Why else does she whisper instead of embracing what you are? You are not her equal. You are beyond her. And when she sees it… she will leave. Or she will break.]
His chest heaved violently. Trembling hands scraped the stone floor as if gripping it could anchor him to reality. Sweat ran down his spine, cold yet sticky, mingling with the tension coiled in every muscle. The air felt alive, humming with anticipation, waiting for something he could almost feel but not touch.
Beneath the fear, though, something stirred. Something vast and coiled, impatient. A flicker of violet light traced his fingers, sliding down his arms as if the energy beneath his skin had awakened. The stone beneath his palms groaned faintly, responding, recognizing.
Through the haze, her voice came again, fragile but unwavering:
I'm not leaving you…
It cracked the suffocating pressure, just for a heartbeat. Enough for him to draw in a shuddering breath. Enough to whisper her name, ragged and hoarse:
"Aria…"
The chamber seemed to shiver in response, chains rattling far away, echoing through stone, a distant chorus acknowledging the fragile connection forming.
The voice fell silent, but its patience was not retreat. It waited, hungry, aware the first cracks were forming.
Erevan understood: the barrier between them was thinner now. Too thin.
The violet light beneath his skin pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, promising power, danger, and a choice he wasn't sure he could resist.
The tug inside him intensified, twisting, insistent, wracking his chest and spine. Every nerve vibrated with it. Shadows of his chamber pulsed in time with the violet coils under his skin. He felt her presence—fragile warmth, almost within reach, teasing him with every heartbeat.
[She is here… she is close…] the voice purred, thick, confident, curling around his thoughts like smoke. [Do you feel her? Do you feel her fear, her hope? She comes because she cannot help herself. She comes to you… and you could claim her, if only you would let go.]
"No!" Erevan gasped, wrenching upright, fists clenched until knuckles burned white. "She is not afraid! She—"
[She is.] The voice countered sharply, louder now, reverberating through his chest. [Why else does she linger at the edge, whispering to a shadow, instead of embracing what you are? She cannot contain you. She is not strong enough. She will never be enough. And when she sees… she will falter… she will break… or leave.]
The violet light under Erevan's skin flared, snaking along his arms in restless coils. It was alive, pulsing with a rhythm that seemed older than stone, older than him. Every heartbeat drew it higher, a slow, deliberate crescendo that made the shadows of the chamber twist and lean toward him.
[Call her. Let her see.] the voice hissed, curling around his thoughts like smoke. [Show her who you are. Let her kneel before you.]
"No!" Erevan roared, voice raw, cracking under the weight pressing against his chest. "I am not her master! She is not afraid of me!"
The shadows recoiled slightly, but only for a heartbeat. The voice did not retreat; it lingered, silky and persistent, threading deeper into his mind.
[She fears what you are. She cannot help it. She comes because she senses it. She comes because she hopes you will…]
Erevan's teeth ground together. His fists glowed faintly, violet tendrils tracing patterns in the air as if the energy itself were speaking in a language only he could understand. Sweat slicked his skin, cold and sticky, but he ignored it. Every instinct screamed to surrender, to yield, yet something stubborn and human—defiant—clawed inside him.
I'm not leaving you…
Her voice, fragile and unwavering, threaded through the chaos. It was a lifeline, a fragile tether of warmth pulling at him.
"I… I won't let this—" he began, but the voice interrupted, curling around every thought, every heartbeat.
[You could claim her. You could tear the chains of her fear. You could show her…]
"No," he gasped again, feeling the violet energy pulse violently through his veins, "she is not mine to claim! She is strong—stronger than you know!"
The duality of power pressed against him—one seductive, coaxing, patient; the other harsh, calculated, relentless. It twisted him, tugging on every nerve, every fiber, whispering of freedom, of release, of destruction.
The chamber seemed to breathe with him. Shadows leaned closer, responding to the violet fire coiling along his arms. The stone hummed faintly beneath his palms, as if recognizing the energy, as if aligning itself with his will.
I'm not leaving you…
The words were fragile, yet they cut through the oppressive manipulation. Her presence threaded through the coils of the voice, delicate and real, grounding him in a way nothing else could.
Erevan trembled, torn between the intoxicating pull of raw power and the fragile warmth of Aria's thread. His chest heaved, muscles taut, fingers tracing abstract patterns in the stone, trying to tether himself to something real.
[Do you feel her?] the voice purred, twisting in his mind like a serpent. [Her fear, her hope, her desire to reach you… She comes, and you could…]
"No!" He pressed his palms harder into the floor, nails biting stone. "She is not afraid! She is strong! She—"
I'm here… I'm not leaving you…
Her voice threaded through, steadying him, even as the violet coils under his skin surged, threatening to overwhelm. Her warmth was a tether he could cling to, even as the shadows pressed, even as the voice tempted him with promises of power he had never imagined.
Erevan's breath came in jagged bursts. He closed his eyes, letting the energy pulse, feeling it curl like a living thing around him. He could hear it, see it in the mind's eye, vibrating in harmony with the memory of her, her presence threading into the dark.
[You could let go. You could claim her. You could become what you were always meant to be.]
And yet—he did not.
"No… I will not," he rasped. The violet light throbbed, coiling tighter, but he anchored himself to her, to the fragile, defiant thread of warmth. "She is not mine. I… I will not let you—"
I'm not leaving you…
Her voice was a heartbeat, a lifeline, a fragile counterpoint to the seductive whispers curling in his mind. It threaded through the coils of power, guiding, steadying, reminding him of who he was, what he wanted, what he could protect.
The chamber seemed to hum with tension, the air thick with expectation. Shadows writhed, the stone groaning faintly beneath his palms. The pull of the voice threatened to tear him, to twist his will, yet Aria's presence wove a delicate, unyielding tether through the chaos.
Erevan's chest rose and fell rapidly. Sweat slicked his skin, his muscles burned, yet he did not yield. He could feel the violet coils responding to her, the energy alive, aware, thrumming in rhythm with her heartbeat, or at least the memory of it threading through the darkness.
[She comes…] the voice whispered again, curling with patience. [Do you feel her? Do you feel her thread? She is close… closer than you know…]
"No!" Erevan gasped, and his voice cracked with both defiance and exhaustion. "She is not afraid! She is strong… and she will not yield to you. She will not… and I will not…"
The shadows seemed to recoil slightly, as if acknowledging his resistance, but the voice lingered, patient, waiting, confident. The violet energy pulsed and coiled, threatening, alive, but tethered now—threaded with something human, fragile, real.
Aria's voice, soft yet insistent, continued to thread through him:
I'm not leaving you…
And in that fragile tether, in the heartbeat of her words, Erevan felt something shift. Something in the energy, in the chamber, in the tension pressing against him. A balance—a danger—yet also the first real foothold of control.
The duality of voices pressed, twisted, coaxed—but he was no longer just prey. He had a thread. He had her. And for the first time in this suffocating darkness, he felt a glimmer of agency.
The violet energy beneath Erevan's skin coiled like a living thing, thrumming with a pulse that was almost deafening in the stillness of his chamber. It stretched from his fingers to his shoulders, a tidal force of power, wild and raw, pressing at the edges of his consciousness. Every nerve screamed, every heartbeat hammered, and yet he did not move. He could not.
[Claim her. Let her see. She is yours if you dare.] The voice slithered through his mind, tempting, patient, coaxing, curling around every thought.
"No!" Erevan's voice shattered the silence, ragged and raw. "She is not mine! She is not yours to tempt!"
The chamber seemed to react, shadows writhing, coiling, folding in on themselves as if the darkness itself were listening. The violet light flared, spreading across the stone like molten veins, pulsating with an almost sentient rhythm. It hissed, alive, threatening to pull him under.
I'm not leaving you…
Her voice threaded through the chaos, a fragile, defiant counterpoint. It wove through the coils of energy, steadying him, tethering him to something human, something real. A heartbeat, a lifeline, a reminder of the world beyond the darkness pressing on him.
The voice inside him roared, slick and intoxicating: [She fears, she hopes, she will kneel. You could bend her to your will. You could—]
Erevan's hands flared with violet fire, nails digging into stone, drawing patterns in the air as if to anchor himself. Heat and cold warred in his veins, threatening to tear him apart, but he drew a deep, shuddering breath.
"No. I will not," he rasped. "She is not afraid… She is stronger than you imagine… And I—will—protect her."
The energy pulsed in response, coiling tighter, alive and aware, yet threaded now with her presence. Aria's warmth wrapped around the wildness of the violet, a delicate tether that reminded him of choice, of restraint, of connection.
[She is close. You could let go… you could claim her…]
"No!" His voice broke, raw with exhaustion and defiance. "She is not yours! She is herself, and I will not let you—"
The chamber shuddered. The violet light flared violently, clawing up his arms, wrapping around his torso, pressing at his chest, and yet, in that pulse, Erevan felt the thread of her voice, steady, unwavering.
I'm not leaving you…
Her words pierced the chaos like a blade through smoke. In that heartbeat, he understood. The pull, the temptation, the raw power—it could not exist without her counterbalance. Without her presence, he would fall. With her, he could hold. With her, he could resist.
He pressed both palms to the stone floor, violet light radiating outward, coiling, thrumming. Every muscle screamed. Every breath burned. And then, slowly, deliberately, he let her thread guide him. He focused on her warmth, on her unwavering voice, on the promise of her presence.
The voice hissed, twisting, curling, slick and relentless: [You could—]
"No." He growled the word, guttural and sharp, a defiance carved in stone. "I will not. She is not mine. She is not yours. She is herself."
The violet energy convulsed, surged, trying to overwhelm, to pull him under—but the thread of her presence held steady. It grounded him, centered him, tethered him to the fragile reality beyond the chamber, beyond the shadows.
I'm not leaving you…
Her voice, a steady, unwavering pulse in the madness, guided him. Each inhale, each exhale, every heartbeat synced with the violet coils, shaping them, bending them, containing them. The voice of temptation recoiled slightly, hissing, frustrated, patient, waiting for another moment of weakness.
Erevan's chest heaved, muscles trembling, sweat slick on his skin, but he did not waver. He could feel the presence of Aria like a fragile thread of light, weaving through the shadows, threading through the violet fire, holding him in place.
The chamber seemed to breathe with him. Shadows danced and recoiled, the stone groaning faintly under the pulse of energy. He was alive, more alive than ever, and yet every fiber of his being screamed in tension, in fear, in exhilaration.
[She comes… she dares… she will see…]
Erevan's hands glowed, violet light coiling along his fingers and arms. He pressed a palm to the floor, grounding, anchoring, letting the energy respond to her. The voice hissed one last time, slow, deliberate, testing: [Do you feel it? Do you feel her thread? She could fall. She could break… or she could be yours…]
"No." He spat the word like fire, his voice shaking with the effort of control, of defiance, of raw, human will. "She is not mine. She is herself, and I will not let you touch her. I will not—ever."
For a heartbeat, silence. Then the chamber seemed to sigh, the violet energy still thrumming, still alive, but threaded now with the steady warmth of her voice. The pull lessened, the shadows paused, the coils of power waiting, patient, aware.
Erevan sank slowly to his knees, chest heaving, fingers glowing faintly, sweat dripping into the cracks of the stone. He was exhausted. He was trembling. But he was unbroken.
I'm not leaving you…
Her voice, steady, unwavering, threaded through the chamber, through the shadows, through him. And in that fragile connection, he understood: the barrier between them was thinner than ever. Too thin.
And somewhere, deep in the violet coils and the pressing darkness, he knew the truth: the reckoning was coming, and nothing would ever be the same.