“Hahahaha— ha..ha I did it, ha.”

  A fleeting sigh slips out after my laughter. I lift my hands and stare at them. They’re shaking. I clench hard until my knuckles go white.

  I steady myself. Heavy breath in. Heavy breath out. When my nerves finally loosen, a small chuckle escapes anyway—like my body doesn’t know when to stop.

  I look around.

  Still trapped.

  The Leech is still dead under me.

  I grab my dagger. ’Storage—where to put it?’

  It slips back into me through my palm and disappears.

  A weapon made of one soul. Truly handy. But strange.

  I shakily get up. My left leg skids on the blood pooled beneath me, and my knee sinks into it—gray and cold—chilling straight through skin and bone. I grit my teeth and force myself upright. I stand over the corpse and dust myself off like that changes anything.

  My smile dies when I notice Swart in the distance, staring into the cage he trapped me in.

  “What now?” I ask, staring him down with no amusement in my eyes.

  He walks closer until his face is clear. His smile creeps back in.

  He snaps his fingers.

  The cage vanishes.

  And he’s behind me, crouched over the Leech’s corpse like it belongs to him.

  He stays silent as he straightens, eyes lingering on the dead thing before sliding to me. The gray blood radiates bone-chilling cold even from a few feet away. Wrong. Anti-life. The air feels poisoned by it.

  “Sad I killed your kin?” I sneer, disdain laced into every syllable.

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  This thing caged me like a beast to be tortured in the worst way imaginable. That pain doesn’t belong to imagination.

  “Hm—why so worked up?” he laughs, like my disgust is something he can brush aside.

  He steps forward.

  And he’s behind me again—too close—hooking an arm over my shoulder like we’re friends.

  I shove him off hard.

  “Oh my— you really are pissed, huh?” he says, mock surprise dripping off every word.

  “Enough. Let me go. I don’t have the will or desire to be here. You’ve gone too far. You clearly aren’t someone I can trust,” I snap.

  “Someone you can’t trust… sure. You can’t trust me, and I wouldn’t ask you to.” He tilts his head. “But what have I done for you to be like this?”

  I stay silent, disgust twisting my face into a frown.

  “Is this all a game for you?”

  “Hah. I told you from the beginning you should entertain me,” he says, and his smile sharpens. “And answer—the question.”

  “Swart,” I say, voice rough. “You locked me here. You forced me to fight some creature related to you. One that, on numerous occasions, ripped my literal soul apart. It’s a wonder I haven’t lost my sanity.”

  I jab a finger toward the corpse without looking at it.

  “And then you expect me to be fine with you after all that? For fuck’s sake, that thing— you probably put it in me. And all the coincidences that keep happening to me— aren’t they tied to your schemes?”

  My chest heaves. The gray cold bites at my skin while I shout.

  “I don’t have more to say. Just let me go back.” I stare him down. “And don’t talk to me—or bring me here—again.”

  “That’s all?” he says, dismissing everything like it’s nothing.

  I almost pull my dagger from within me—then stop. He’s the only way out. Whatever good will he showed me before, I don’t know if it’s real, but I know what he can do. I click my tongue and force myself to calm down.

  He turns away and walks to the edge of the marble temple, staring out into the distance.

  He heaves a heavy sigh, and for a second regret slips through.

  “Look, Empty—you were born with that thing. It’s like a genetic inheritance. So I didn’t put it there. And anyway, you needed it. You had to defeat it. I already told you this.”

  He pauses.

  “And regarding the events around you…” His smile tugs back in. “They’re simply… fate.” He chuckles.

  He says it like that should satisfy me.

  “Oh. And you can’t go back just yet.” He laughs.

  “Why not!” I snap.

  He looks toward the corpse, and my eyes follow.

  The Leech starts to evaporate into ash.

  “Good luck.”

  I stare at him, anger crawling over my face. “With what?” I ask.

  The last pieces turn to ash, and the ash begins to levitate. My mouth goes dry. I back up a few feet, draw my dagger, and ready myself. I glance at Swart—he just stands there, unbothered.

  The ash twirls and dances.

  Forming numerous clouds.

  Some collide.

  Some part.

  At the center, a piercing glow slips through the shifting formations. Pitch white seeping out from gray ash.

  The glow grows stronger as the clouds whip faster. They collide harder. Everything drags toward the middle.

  Until it’s all in the center.

  The light fills the room, almost blinding.

  Then it snaps shut.

  A gray orb hangs in the air for a breath.

  In the space between heartbeats, it lunges.

  I try to dodge, but it hits anyway, sinking into my chest—just like my dagger.

  “Shit,” I gasp, panic snapping tight in my throat.

  I stumble back a couple steps. Confused, I pat my chest. No pain. No wound. Nothing.

  I stare at Swart, shocked. “What just happened?”

  Swart ignores the question.

  “Remember not to lose yourself,” he says, and this time it’s unlike him—gentle tone, a small smile like he’s giving advice instead of a warning.

  “What?” I mumble.

  Suddenly everything sinks. My mind blurs. My legs give out.

  I hit the marble flat, and the world spins.

  My head burns hot, like someone poured fire behind my eyes. A ferocious fever tears through my body.

  I try to stand. My arms give out too.

  My muscles go numb while my brain scorches. Thoughts and memories churn and swim in my skull. My vision caves in. My ears shut.

  My breath ceases.

  Only the storm in my head remains.

  As everything closes and sinks and shuts around me, I pass out.