Both fighters were carried from the arena.

  Astral was conscious — barely.

  His body was immobilized, arms and legs bound in splints, pain screaming through every nerve. But that wasn’t what terrified him.

  It was Samye.

  Even as healers worked on him, Astral’s eyes shook violently whenever Samye was brought into view. His breath hitched, his heart racing uncontrollably.

  He had seen many powerful ability wielders before.

  He could read them.

  Strength.

  Limits.

  Potential.

  But Samye was different.

  When Astral’s ability had reached into him, it found nothing solid to measure — only a flickering darkness, layered and endless.

  And then—

  Time vanished.

  Astral remembered everything.

  Being frozen.

  Being helpless.

  Being watched.

  He remembered Samye’s eyes — not angry, not afraid — decided.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  That wasn’t a human, Astral thought, trembling.

  That was something wearing one.

  For the first time in his life, Astral was afraid of power itself.

  Samye, meanwhile, lay unconscious.

  His body rested, but his mind did not.

  He drifted through memories.

  His parents smiling.

  His brother laughing.

  The hut.

  The forest.

  The grave.

  Then—

  Footsteps.

  Slow.

  Deliberate.

  Each step echoed louder than the last.

  With every step closer, his memories began to blur.

  Faces lost detail.

  Voices faded.

  Warmth drained away.

  “No…” Samye tried to speak.

  His heart began to pound violently.

  The figure emerged from the darkness.

  It looked like him.

  Same face.

  Same body.

  But the smile—

  Cold.

  Satisfied.

  Hungry.

  The figure leaned closer.

  And Samye felt something being taken.

  He woke up screaming.

  Samye jolted upright, gasping for air, sweat soaking his body. His heart hammered wildly as if trying to escape his chest.

  He looked around frantically.

  Empty room.

  No shadow.

  No figure.

  Just silence.

  “…It wasn’t real,” he whispered.

  But his hands were shaking.

  Unable to calm himself, Samye stood and stepped outside into the cool night air. He walked without direction until he found himself sitting near the temple steps, the lantern light soft against the stone.

  The village slept peacefully.

  Too peacefully.

  Samye stared at the ground, replaying what he had seen.

  Why were my memories fading?

  What was that thing smiling at me?

  Was that… me?

  A chill crept up his spine.

  “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  Samye looked up.

  An old monk stood nearby, watching him with calm but concerned eyes.

  “I sensed disturbance,” the monk said gently. “And then I saw you here.”

  Samye swallowed.

  “…I don’t understand what’s happening to me,” he admitted quietly.

  The monk studied him for a long moment.

  Then he spoke words that made Samye’s blood run cold.

  “Because you are not just awakening power,” the monk said.

  “You are awakening something else.”

  The lantern flame flickered.

  And the night seemed to listen.