Chapter 16

The ledge groans beneath my boots, a spiderweb of fractures racing outward as I grip the shard tighter, its jagged edges slick with my blood. Her violet eyes—my eyes—bore into me, flickering between terror and rage, her cracked crown tilting as she scrambles to her knees. The void yawns below, a bottomless maw exhaling cold that claws up my spine, and the entity's whisper surges, a chorus now—*"Mine… yours… ours…"*—threading through the air like venom. It's not just her voice anymore; it's layered, fractured, a thousand stolen echoes churning in the dark.

I take a step back, the stone splintering under my heel, and she lunges—fingers hooked, aiming for the shard. I twist, slamming my elbow into her jaw, and she reels, blood—hers, mine?—trickling from her lip. The crown tilts further, one horn snapping off, clattering into the abyss, and for a heartbeat, her face shifts: eyeless sockets, a lipless grin, then back to me, a warped reflection. "You can't kill me," she spits, voice trembling, "because you won't kill yourself."

The words hit harder than her fists, rooting me where I stand. The shard pulses in my hand, warm, alive, its whispers syncing with my heartbeat—*"Take… end… become…"*—and I see it: her, me, us, fused into something whole, something unstoppable. The entity's promise. My hands shake, the ledge shuddering as the tide below rises—a slick, writhing mass of tendrils breaching the dark, glistening like oil, reaching for us both.

"I'm not you," I growl, forcing the words out, my breath ragged. I swing the shard upward, not at her, but at the air between us, slashing at the invisible threads I feel binding me to her—to it. Violet sparks flare, weak but sharp, and the whispers stutter, the tendrils pausing mid-reach. She screams, clutching her head, the crown fracturing further, and I feel it too—a searing rip in my skull, like I'm tearing myself apart. Maybe I am.

The ledge buckles, tilting us toward the void, and I stumble, catching myself on a jagged outcrop. She slides, nails scraping stone, and grabs my ankle—her touch burns, a flood of memories not mine: Kaelen's laugh, Rhea's smirk, a sky I've never seen, all drowning in violet. "You need me," she hisses, pulling herself up, her grip tightening. "You're nothing without this."

I kick free, her nails raking my skin, and scramble back, the shard raised. The tendrils surge higher, coiling around the ledge's base, snapping stone like brittle twigs. The entity's hum is deafening now, a physical weight pressing me down, but I plant my feet, staring her down—me down. "I'm enough," I say, voice breaking, and I drive the shard into the ledge itself, into the trembling stone between us.

The impact shatters everything. A pulse of violet light explodes outward, blasting her back, and the ledge collapses entirely, plunging us into the void. I claw at the air, the shard still in my fist, its glow the only light as we fall. She's beside me, tumbling, her crown disintegrating, her form flickering—human, monster, me, nothing—her screams swallowed by the roar of the rising tide. Tendrils lash out, wrapping her legs, her arms, dragging her down faster, and her eyes lock on mine, pleading, furious, fading.

I twist midair, aiming the shard at the nearest tendril, and stab. It bursts, spraying ichor that burns where it touches, and the entity shrieks—a sound that shakes my bones. More tendrils come, but I keep slashing, each strike sparking violet, each spark buying me seconds. The void spins, endless, but there's a flicker above—a pinprick of light, not violet, not hers. White. Pure. Kaelen's voice cuts through, faint—*"Hold on…"*—and I grit my teeth, kicking off a tendril to propel myself upward.

She's gone now, swallowed by the tide, her last cry echoing—*"Ours…"*—and the shard's glow dims, its whispers fading. The tendrils hesitate, the hum faltering, and I reach for that light, my bloodied hand outstretched, the void pulling at my heels. The entity's not dead—it's wounded, retreating—but I feel it watching, waiting, biding its time. My fingers brush something solid—stone, real stone—and I haul myself up, collapsing onto a slab suspended in the dark, the white light blinding now.

I'm alone. The shard's cold in my hand, silent, its barbs dulled. My chest heaves, every muscle screaming, but I'm here—alive, me, not her. The void churns below, quieter, and Kaelen's voice ghosts again—*"You're enough…"*—a memory or a promise, I can't tell. The slab trembles, the light pulsing, and I stagger to my feet, shard raised, ready for whatever comes next. The entity's not done. Neither am I.