My back screams as I force myself upright. Every bone in my body feels like it's shattering again. Warm blood drips from my ears, landing on the glass beneath my feet. The dark veins running through it pulse faintly with each heartbeat, like the floor itself is alive.
In the distance, they wait.
Kurohana and Kagezu. Calm. Unbothered. Their silhouettes are stretched across the horizon, framed by the warped glow of the portal. They speak, but the words are distorted, carried through the thick, choking air like echoes from another world.
I glance left. Towering crystal walls rise jagged, reflecting my own twisted image in fractured pieces. To my right, more of the same. A narrow path stretches forward, veins of black and crimson racing through the glass like living blood, leading to a sharp curve.
Above, the sky is suffocating. The sunlight struggles through a thick shadow that seems to press down on the world itself.
"We're running out of time," I mutter, voice barely a rasp. "If we don't close that portal… everyone's gone. There won't be anyone left."
I shut my eyes, forcing out the pain, the ringing in my ears, the whispering of the glass. I focus, straining every sense.
Kurohana's voice cuts through the tension. "Very well. You've done well." Her hand lowers deliberately. "Gashadokuro no Ōkami… rest now."
The ground trembles.
The skeletal giant—the white skull, hollow eye sockets burning crimson, ribs jutting like jagged spears, long, brittle fingers—sinks slowly into the glassy floor. Shadows coil around it, dragging it back into the black veins, sealing it like a grave. A low groan escapes from beneath the surface, the sound of a thousand souls twisting and breaking. Kurohana smiles, slow and predatory.
Then Kagezu speaks, detached. "Why haven't we killed them? They're trapped. Weak. We could slaughter them easily."
"In time," Kurohana replies softly, voice colder than ice. "But first… answer me this: what makes a soul?"
Kagezu frowns. "A soul is… simple, isn't it?"
Her laugh is soft and sharp. "Wrong. A soul is will. Fear. Desire. Memory. Power flows from the balance of these four. They are your essence." She gestures lazily at the glass surrounding me, twisting the reflections into grotesque mockeries. "The Shadowviel is not merely a place. It is the grave of abandoned souls, those who could not pass on. Scarred by war, by loss, by unfinished purpose. Sengoku. Endless slaughter. Unburied dead. Their suffering condensed… and became Shadowviel."
Kagezu scoffs. "And?"
"Our techniques are older than you, older than me," Kurohana continues, eyes glinting. "They are not learned. They are claimed. One must synchronize their soul with Shadowviel—abandon hope, empathy, identity. And to break the seal, we need more than ordinary souls. Dragon Keeper souls."
"Then why not just take theirs?" Kagezu asks.
"Strong souls taste better after they awaken," Kurohana says. "We let them grow… awaken… and when they are strongest, we take everything."
I can't listen anymore. My legs scream, but I move. Find the team. Keep moving.
The crystal path stretches ahead, black veins crawling through crimson glass like roots of corruption. Every step echoes hollow and wrong. The air thickens; the sky is darker still. Sunlight is gone, swallowed by the oppressive shadow.
Whispers crawl into my mind.
"…William."
I freeze.
The voice is soft. Familiar.
My mother.
"Come here… it's okay…"
Another voice. My father. Warm. Gentle. "Don't be afraid, kiddo. You don't have to fight anymore."
My chest tightens. My throat burns. My eyes widen, heart hammering. I shout, trembling: "Wh-why… why are you here? What… what's happening?"
The path bends. The glass twists.
I see them.
My parents, smiling. Safe. Relief crashes over me like fire.
"Mom… Dad…"
I reach out.
The glass cracks violently.
Their bodies twist and warp.
Skin gray. Eyes hollow. Smiles stretched impossibly wide.
Suddenly, they collapse. My mother's chest caves in, ribs jagged and exposed, blood pooling around her. My father's body bends unnaturally, eyes wide, lifeless, staring straight at me.
"No no No!"
The scene fractures and reforms.
Jordan is next. Trapped waist-deep in blackened stone, screaming as shadowy hands drag her down.
Cameron convulses in uncontrolled lightning, sparks stabbing through his body. Smoke and flame curl from his mouth as he cries out.
Maya kneels in rising water, waves crashing over her, gagging, eyes wide with terror. "William… help…"
And then my reflection.
Alone. Surrounded by corpses.
The portal still open.
The world burning.
Whispers curl into my mind, a thousand voices screaming in my own voice.
Panic explodes inside me. My chest tightens. My lungs burn. My hands shake violently, claws scraping the glass. My vision tunnels, flashes of blood and fire replacing reality. I stumble, fall to my knees, sobbing, unable to think.
No. No. No. Everyone is… everyone is dead. I couldn't save them. I couldn't stop it.
My body convulses, heart hammering like a war drum. Shadows from the glass crawl over my skin, cold and suffocating, pressing into my skull. Every heartbeat echoes like doom itself.
Then… the reflection moves.
Not me.
It's myself, standing upright amidst the corpses, eyes wide and hollow, body trembling. It lifts its head, and in a voice I know is mine, but not… mine, it whispers:
"This is all your fault. You couldn't protect us."
The words slice through me. Every nerve, every bone, every thought consumed in a wave of raw, unfiltered terror. The reflection points at me. Every movement mirrors my own, yet twisted, malicious. I clutch my head, screaming, rocking back and forth.
The glass beneath me quakes, veins of black spreading faster, reaching for me like hands from the void. Shadows surge. From the cracks, Gashadokuro no Ōkami rises, taller, more monstrous than ever, bones clacking, red eyes blazing, a thousand screaming souls echoing from its form.
And I scream not out of courage, not out of defiance but pure, raw panic, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to think.
I don't know if I can survive this. I don't know if I can fight back.