Blood dripped onto the cold stone floor. Henry could hear it—soft, rhythmic, like a dying heartbeat. His own? Someone else's? He wasn't sure. Pain coiled around his ribs, sharp and unrelenting, but it was nothing compared to the voice inside his head. "Stop struggling, Henry. "A whisper. A taunt. A presence that wasn't just near him—it was inside him.The darkness pulsed, alive, pressing against his skin like a second soul. He could feel him there, watching, waiting. And then, he saw him. A boy. No… not just a boy. Henry's own face stared back at him, but the eyes weren't his. They burned with something raw, something ancient. Something monstrous.
"You can't fight me forever," the other Henry—no, Krisian—murmured, his smirk widening. "Sooner or later, you'll break. And when you do… I'll be the one left standing. "The shadows around them twisted, and Henry's breath caught. The world was crumbling. His world. His mind. And deep down, beneath the fear, beneath the pain…A part of him wondered if Krisian was right.
The Awakening of Shadow
Henry woke up to the sound of nothing.
No wind. No distant murmurs. Just an endless, suffocating silence.
The darkness stretched in every direction, thick like ink, clinging to his skin. He couldn't tell if he was standing, sitting, or floating in some void where time meant nothing. His body felt… weightless, yet heavy with exhaustion. Like he had been carrying a mountain on his back for years, and only now did he realize how tired he was.
Then, out of the nothingness, footsteps.
Slow. Purposeful. Getting closer.
Henry tensed. The darkness twisted, shifting into something—a shape, a figure. And then, he saw him.
A boy.
No. Not just a boy. Him.
Same sharp jawline. Same unruly dark hair. Same storm-gray eyes.
But there was something different. The way he stood—confident, almost amused, like he had been expecting this meeting all along. His eyes gleamed, not with exhaustion, but with something far more dangerous. Power. Control. Freedom.
"Hello, Henry." The boy's voice was smooth, casual, but there was something behind it, something unsettlingly calm. "It's about time we talked."
Henry swallowed. His throat was dry, but he forced himself to speak. "Who… are you?"
The boy grinned. It wasn't friendly. It wasn't cruel. It was knowing.
"My name is Krisian Voss," he said, tilting his head slightly. "And I'm the part of you that's been waiting in the shadows, watching, waiting for the moment you'd finally break."
Henry's heart pounded. His hands clenched into fists. "That's not possible."
Krisian chuckled. "Oh, Henry, Henry, Henry." He shook his head. "You've suffered enough. You've endured enough. And now?" His grin widened. "It's my turn."
The darkness around them pulsed. Henry felt it press against him, cold and alive, like it recognized Krisian's presence—welcomed it. A chill ran down his spine, but deep inside, something else stirred. A feeling he didn't want to acknowledge.
Relief.
Because, for the first time in a long time, he didn't have to fight anymore.
Krisian had arrived.
And he was ready to take over.
I did what any normal person would do when faced with a 100% identical, possibly evil version of themselves.
I took a step back.
"Nope," I said, shaking my head. "Not happening. You are not real."
Krisian Voss smirked. "That's adorable. You think you get a say in this."
The darkness around us pulsed, closing in, making it harder to breathe. My head ached like someone had shoved a jackhammer into my skull and set it to max power.
"You're in my head," I said, more to myself than to him. "This is just some weird dream. I'll wake up, and—"
"You don't get it yet, do you?" Krisian sighed, like a teacher tired of explaining basic math. He took a step forward, and even though he looked exactly like me, he moved differently. Like he belonged here. Like this whole place—the darkness, the silence—was his playground.
"This isn't a dream, Henry. This is a negotiation."
I snorted. "Yeah? What are we negotiating?"
"You." His voice was calm, patient. "You've been fighting for so long. Pushing. Struggling. And where has that gotten you? Nowhere. You're exhausted. You're breaking." He spread his arms wide, like some kind of twisted salesman. "So let me take over. Let me carry the weight for a while."
I clenched my fists. My brain screamed danger, but another part of me—the part that was so, so tired—whispered, What if he's right?
I looked at him, really looked. Same face, same voice. But his posture, his confidence, the sheer power in the way he stood—it was like he was everything I tried to be but couldn't.
"You're not me," I said.
Krisian laughed. "Oh, I'm very much you. Just... the version of you that doesn't hold back. The version that doesn't care about consequences."
I shuddered. Because deep down, I knew what he meant. I'd spent years pushing things down—anger, fear, doubt. I locked them away, pretending they weren't there. And now here they were, standing in front of me, smiling like they'd just won the lottery.
I took a shaky breath. "What if I say no?"
Krisian's smirk didn't falter. "Then you keep suffering. You keep breaking. And eventually? I take over anyway." He tilted his head, as if listening to something I couldn't hear. "Tick-tock, Henry. Time's running out."
Krisian's smirk faltered, his expression growing more intense, more urgent. He stepped closer, his voice dropping, yet carrying a dangerous edge.
"This isn't just about you, Henry," he said, his tone colder now, laced with frustration. "It's about everyone. The people outside. The ones suffering while you're locked in this pathetic battle inside your head. They're being treated just like you were—like pawns, ignored, discarded, stepping stones for those in power. You think your struggle matters? You think the world gives a damn about what you want?"
Henry's breath caught in his throat. The weight of Krisian's words hit him harder than he expected, a sharp, undeniable truth.
"You're just like them," Krisian continued, his gaze hardening. "You and I—we've been weak. All this time, hiding, trying to be something we're not, letting others walk all over us. But it's not just about us, Henry. It's about everyone who's lost their lives because we were too afraid to act. Too afraid to take what was rightfully ours."
Henry staggered back, his hands shaking. "What are you talking about? What right? You're not… you're not me."
"No," Krisian interrupted sharply, "I'm better than you. I'm the one who'll stop this endless cycle of suffering. Our mother… she sacrificed everything for us. She died to protect us, to give us a chance at life. And yet, what have we done with that chance? Nothing. We've allowed ourselves to be weak, to be forgotten. And now, you—the crown prince, the heir—sit here, doing nothing."
His voice grew louder, echoing in the vast, oppressive darkness. "I'm not asking for power, Henry. I'm demanding it. I'm taking what should've been ours from the start. You have the birthright to reshape this world, to bring it to its knees, but you've been too afraid to claim it."
Henry felt the ground beneath him shake, and for a moment, the shadows around them seemed to pulse with life, as if agreeing with Krisian. The weight of his words crushed down on Henry's chest, suffocating him, leaving him breathless.
"Do you think our father would hesitate? Do you think he'd allow weakness to rule? No. He'd take what's his. He'd crush anyone who stood in his way. And you, Henry, you have the same power. The same right. But you're letting it slip through your fingers. You're letting them all die because you refuse to take control. Refuse to take the throne that's yours by birthright."
Henry's vision blurred as Krisian's words sunk deep, filling every corner of his mind. His mother. His father. The lives lost. The suffering. It all came crashing down on him.
"I don't want to be like them," Henry whispered, barely able to breathe.
Krisian's eyes flashed with something dark and intense. "Then stop being like you. You've been weak, Henry. But I'm not. I'm the part of you that has no more doubts. The part that knows what must be done. Let me take over, and I'll end the suffering. I'll make sure no one ever has to kneel again."
The shadows grew darker, heavier. "It's time, Henry. Time to claim what's yours. Time to stop being a victim."
Henry's mind screamed. Every part of him wanted to resist, to fight. But deep down, beneath the fear, the exhaustion, and the years of being held back—something else stirred. A desire. A hunger. A need for change.
And just like that, the darkness cracked.
A blinding light split the space between us, and suddenly, I was falling.
The last thing I heard was Krisian's voice, echoing in my mind.
"I'll be seeing you soon."