The One Supposed To Die

The storm raged like the world itself was grieving. Thunder cracked the sky, a deafening roar that shook the earth. Rain fell in sheets, cold and unrelenting, as if the heavens were trying to wash away the sins of mankind. Lightning split the darkness, illuminating the jagged edges of the ravine below. And there, at the bottom, broken and bleeding, lay Cassin Valen.

He was supposed to be dead.

His body was a ruin—ribs shattered, limbs twisted, blood pooling beneath him, diluted by the rain. Every breath was agony, a sharp, stabbing pain that made him wish for the release of death. But death wouldn't come. Not yet. Not for him.

Cassin's eyes, dull and lifeless, stared up at the storm. He didn't see the lightning. He didn't feel the rain. All he saw was her.

Eira.

Her face, her laughter, her fire. The way she had looked at him, even in the darkest moments, as if he were worth something. As if he were more than the sum of his pain. And then—her blood. Her lifeless eyes. The man in black, standing over her, calm and detached, as if her death meant nothing.

"You should blame yourself for this."

The words echoed in his mind, a cruel mantra that twisted the knife deeper. He did blame himself. He always had. He was a curse, a mistake, a boy who should have died with his mother. And yet, he lived. He survived. And everyone who ever cared for him paid the price.

"Why?" he croaked, his voice barely audible over the storm. "Why am I still here?"

The rain answered with silence.

Cassin's hand twitched, fingers clawing at the mud. He wanted to scream, to rage, to tear the world apart for what it had taken from him. But his body wouldn't obey. He was broken, useless, a husk of a man with nothing left to give.

And then—he felt it.

A faint pulse, like a heartbeat buried deep within the earth. It was soft at first, almost imperceptible, but it grew stronger with every passing second. Cassin's breath hitched as a strange warmth spread through his chest, cutting through the cold and the pain. His eyes, heavy with exhaustion, flickered toward the source.

There, half-buried in the mud, was a shard of crystal.

It was small, no larger than his palm, but it glowed with an eerie light, pulsing in time with the ache in his chest. The sight of it should have terrified him. Instead, it called to him. Not with words, but with something deeper, something primal. A hunger. A promise.

"Suffer. Endure. Break the cycle."

The voice was not his own. It was low, resonant, and filled with a weight that made his bones tremble. Cassin's hand moved without thought, fingers closing around the shard. The moment he touched it, the world exploded.

Pain. White-hot and all-consuming. It tore through him, rewriting his flesh, his bones, his very soul. He felt his ribs snap back into place, his wounds knitting together, his shattered body reforged in fire and agony. He wanted to scream, but no sound came. He wanted to die, but death was no longer an option.

And then, as suddenly as it began, the pain stopped.

Cassin gasped, his body trembling as he pushed himself to his knees. The shard was gone, but he could feel it—a presence, cold and ancient, nestled deep within him. It whispered to him, not in words but in feelings. A purpose. A curse.

"Restore what is broken."

The words echoed in his mind, a command he didn't understand but couldn't ignore. He looked down at his hands, now whole and unmarked, and felt something he hadn't felt in years.

Power.

It surged through him, raw and untamed, like a storm waiting to be unleashed. His body moved before he could think, leaping from the ravine with a strength that defied reason. The world blurred around him, rain and wind whipping past as he soared through the air. For a moment, he felt like a god.

And then he saw him.

The man in black.

He stood at the edge of the ravine, his face obscured by the shadows of his hood. Cassin didn't need to see his face to know who he was. The man who had taken everything from him. The man who had killed Eira.

Rage, white-hot and all-consuming, burned through Cassin's veins. He landed in front of the man, his movements fluid and unnatural, like a predator closing in on its prey. The man didn't flinch. He didn't even move.

"You," Cassin snarled, his voice low and guttural. "You took her from me."

The man tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "And yet, you live. How curious."

Cassin didn't wait for an explanation. He lunged, his body moving faster than thought. His fist connected with the man's chest, the impact sending him flying backward. But the man didn't fall. He landed gracefully, his movements almost too fast to follow.

"You've changed," the man said, his tone almost amused. "But you're still weak."

Cassin didn't respond. He couldn't. The rage inside him was too much, too consuming. He attacked again, each strike faster and more brutal than the last. The man blocked them effortlessly, his movements precise and calculated. But Cassin didn't care. He didn't need to win. He just needed to make him hurt.

And then—he saw it.

A flicker of movement, a split-second opening. Cassin's hand shot forward, his fingers closing around the man's throat. For the first time, the man's calm facade cracked. His eyes widened, his breath catching as Cassin lifted him off the ground.

"This is for her," Cassin growled, his voice trembling with fury.

He squeezed.

The man's body went limp, his lifeless form crumpling to the ground. Cassin stood over him, his chest heaving, his hands trembling. He expected to feel relief. Satisfaction. But all he felt was emptiness.

The storm raged on, the rain washing away the blood on his hands. Cassin stared at the man's body, his mind numb. He had done it. He had avenged her. But it didn't bring her back. It didn't fix what was broken.

And then, as if in response to his thoughts, the shard's voice echoed in his mind once more.

"Restore what is broken."

Cassin's legs gave out, his body collapsing to the ground. The power that had fueled him was gone, leaving him drained and hollow. He stared up at the storm, the rain mixing with the tears on his face.

"I'm sorry, Eira," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

And then, darkness.