Chapter 22 “Truth Carved in Silence”

The words of the two beings echoed in Angelo's mind like thunder rolling through a hollow sky.

You are us… and we are you.

He sat frozen upon the colorless throne, the void stretching endlessly in every direction. The silence pressed against him, more suffocating than noise.

"That's not possible," he whispered. "I'm human. Just… human. I'm not like you."

The white figure, still seated across from him, regarded him with a calm, unreadable gaze. "You still haven't remembered, have you?"

"Remembered what? My life?" Angelo clutched the arms of his throne. "I remember everything. My family, my home… I lived. I mattered. You're wrong."

But the void pulsed with truth, and denial could not hold it back.

Their voices overlapped—one serene, the other laced with quiet malice—as they spoke together, forming a harmony of revelation.

It was not memory. It was remembering.

"You were not born. You were," they said.

"The first spark before creation. The mind before thought. The hand that drew the circle and named time. The one who birthed light… and darkness. Creator and destroyer. Chaos caged within form."

The weight of it nearly crushed Angelo's breath. But they continued.

"You shaped existence. But even gods fear what they cannot bind."

Not all of what you made had turned against him. Some of your earliest creations had remained loyal, silent, scattered. But others… others multiplied without your will—imitations of divinity, feeding on remnants of your power. In time, they outnumbered what you once made. They rose, uninvited, spreading like wildfire through the branches of reality.

"They tried to bind you," the beings said. "Tried to twist your essence for their own design."

In mercy, you tried to reason.

In fury, you unmade.

But the cycle repeated: betrayal, war, destruction—until, at last, he withdrew.

A vessel. A child. An empty page. A chance for peace.

You poured yourself into a single form, sealing the raging storm within a mark—a symbol not of curse, but of control.

That vessel… was Angelo.

The white being's voice softened. "The mark does not only hide your power. It contains us. Chaos sealed in silence."

The void trembled slightly. Far below, the shifting surface of Chaos glimmered like oil over water—alive, hungering.

"That is why I warned you," the white being said, its voice barely above a whisper. "Embrace the darkness and light together… but do not let chaos enter."

The words gripped Angelo's chest like frost.

Then, the white figure's voice changed. "Your family… they've been taken. The military has them. And your body is not your own anymore—they are experimenting on it."

Angelo's eyes widened. "What?!"

The white figure did not answer. It dissolved into light, mist trailing behind as it vanished into the distance.

Angelo turned quickly toward the crimson throne.

"Where did he go?"

The figure lounging upon the crimson seat grinned. "To save you… and your precious family. You should feel honored."

The throne beneath Angelo drifted slightly, as if sensing his unease.

"What is this place?" he asked, voice thin.

The crimson being tilted its head, smirking. "This is your soul."

Angelo looked around again—at the void, the thrones, the flickering abyss beneath. It felt endless… yet not empty.

"But this void," the being continued, "is more than just your soul. It's the remnant of what you used to be. The place where Chaos was carved out. A space even we don't fully control."

Its voice grew darker.

"You must never come here again—not on purpose. If you fall too far into this place… there may be no way back."

Angelo stared into the shifting black below.

"When the white one returns, the three of us—you, him, and me—will move as one. But the power we give you… will never be whole unless you choose to grow into it."

The crimson figure's voice echoed faintly, spreading through the airless void like distant thunder.

"You are the one who decides how much of us you can wield. The more you train, the more you accept… the more you'll become."

"But Chaos," it added coldly, "will remain… watching. Waiting."

A long silence followed, until it spoke again—quieter this time.

"When the time comes, we won't guide you anymore. Every decision, every path… will be yours to bear."

The crimson figure slowly leaned back into its throne, eyes locked on Angelo with something between warning and admiration.

"Your choices will shape the end of all things."