Theras’s wings folded behind him as he descended, his feet touching the stone floor with a softness that stood in stark contrast to the force that had thrown him back only moments ago.
The runes around the chamber dimmed gradually, their purpose fulfilled, leaving behind only the lingering tension that filled the space. He did not look at me. His full attention remained fixed on the figure standing at my side, his gaze steady and unblinking, as though he were confirming something he had not believed possible.
For several moments, he said nothing.
"Who are you?" he asked at last.
His voice was calm but I could feel a tension beneath it.
The shadow did not answer immediately. It remained motionless, its form still composed entirely of darkness, absorbing the faint ambient light without reflection. Then, slowly, it raised its hand and placed it against its own chest.
The surface of its form fractured.
A thin crack spread outward from the point of contact, branching across its body like a fault line running through glass. The darkness did not shatter violently. Instead, it peeled away in layers, dispersing into fine particles that dissolved into the surrounding air.
What remained was a man.
He stood before us with relaxed ease.
He appeared to be in his early thirties, his posture casual, almost informal, in a place where nothing else could be described as such.
Silver hair fell loosely to his shoulders, its strands catching the faint light of the chamber, while his eyes glowed with a soft, steady blue. There was confidence in his presence, but not the rigid kind born from authority. He wore black robes, his hands resting behind his back.
A faint, cheeky smile curved across his face as he looked directly at Theras.
"Long time no see, brother."
’Brother.’
My mind stalled, unable to reconcile what I had just heard with everything I had believed until now. I had been certain of his identity the moment he appeared. The chains alone had confirmed it. They were unmistakable. I could see them even now, faintly layered beneath reality itself. Infinite chains extended outward from him in every direction, stretching beyond the limits of my perception, vanishing into distances that did not belong to this hall or this realm. They did not bind him. They originated from him.
This was the Chained Fallen. The being whom I had mistakenly believed to be Theras.
And yet—
Brother?
The implication refused to settle cleanly in my mind. If this being was his brother, then the history between them was far deeper than imprisonment or opposition. And the visions from the book. Why was I then seeing visions about Theras instead of the Fallen?
My gaze shifted toward Theras.
For the first time since he had appeared, his composure fractured.
His red eyes widened, the rotating black X within them halting abruptly as his aura flickered violently around him. It did not explode outward, but it destabilized, surging and collapsing in uneven pulses that revealed something I had not seen in him before.
Shock.
His gaze locked onto the silver-haired man’s face, searching with intensity that bordered on disbelief, as though expecting the image before him to shatter into illusion.
It did not.
The silver-haired man simply stood there, calm and relaxed.
Theras’s expression twisted.
The shock gave way to something far darker.
His teeth clenched, his jaw tightening as his aura surged again, this time fueled by emotion rather than dominance.
"Brother?" he repeated, his voice low and sharp, each word forced through restrained fury. "You don’t deserve to call me that, you traitor."
The silver-haired man’s smile widened slightly.
There was no anger in his expression. No regret.
Only amusement.
"Come now," he said casually, his tone almost playful. "We are meeting after so long. The least you could do is greet your elder brother with a hug."
The words were light, but the weight behind them was anything but.
Theras’s wings flexed behind him, the air around him distorting as his aura surged in response to the provocation. His red eyes burned with open hostility now, the restraint he had shown earlier replaced by something far more personal.
"Amun," he said, his voice dropping into something colder than before. "Don’t forget my promise."
The name settled into my mind.
Amun.
"I will erase you from existence."
And looking at Theras’s expression, I knew the threat was not empty. There was no exaggeration in his voice, no attempt to intimidate. He spoke with the quiet certainty of someone who had already envisioned the act and accepted its inevitability.
The chained fallen, Amun, raised his free hand and scratched the side of his head casually, as though they were discussing something trivial rather than exchanging promises of erasure.
"I don’t recall how long it has been since you made that promise," Amun said lightly. "But I am still doing well. In fact, I would say I have improved. I have even grown more handsome than you. You look old, brother."
The mockery was gentle, almost affectionate.
This time, Theras did not react immediately.
His aura, which had been flaring moments ago, fell completely silent. His wings folded slowly behind him, their movement controlled and deliberate, as though he had consciously suppressed whatever emotion had threatened to surface.
He looked around the hall instead, his red eyes analyzing the structure with renewed clarity. A faint black ripple spread outward from his body, passing across the tiles, the pillars, and the air itself.
"So this place was created by you," he said. He raised his hand and looked at his own palm. Then, without hesitation, he closed his fingers. His palm disintegrated.
It broke apart into fine black particles, dispersing into the air like dust before reforming again exactly as it had been. He watched the process calmly, studying the nature of his own existence.
"Oh," he said softly. "So I am an avatar created from a drop of my blood."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Good."
His gaze lifted back to Amun.
"I suppose you did improve after all."
For the first time since his arrival, the smile on Amun’s face faded slightly. He did not lose his composure, but the casual amusement softened, replaced by something more measured.
Theras shifted his attention. His red eyes moved from Amun to me. I felt the weight of that gaze immediately.
"Let me guess," he said. "He is the one you are planning to have replace your position."
He clicked his tongue and shook his head slowly.
"So much for your stubborn morals. You are still clinging to that illusion, aren’t you? Amun, you really are an idiot."
Amun’s smile returned.
It was quieter this time, but genuine.
"Maybe," he admitted. "But I enjoy what I do. Can you say the same?"
Theras stared at him for several seconds, his expression unreadable.
Then he shook his head.
"There is no need to waste words on you," he said calmly. "I am certain the real me also has some of your avatars. And you can imagine what he must be doing to them."
He chuckled softly.
The sound carried no humor.
"Let me see how strong you have become."
He raised his hand and waved it forward.
Reality shifted.
Amun vanished from beside me and reappeared directly in front of Theras, the displacement occurring without visible transition. It was the same inevitability Theras had imposed on me moments earlier.
"You underestimate me, brother," Amun replied calmly. He brought his hands together.
And clapped.
The sound was soft. But its effect was immediate.
Three more figures appeared around Theras. They were perfect replicas of Theras. Each one held a sword.
Not ordinary weapons. The same sword I had seen embedded at the peak of the mountain in the vision. Their blades were black, marked by the single silver line that ran through their center, their presence carrying weight that transcended their physical form.
Theras saw them and his expression darkened.