12 #2
In a final surge, I called my shadows, gathering them with every ounce of control I’d learned.
I struck hard and fast, a single focused blow, and the younger version of myself fell to her knees.
Her rage was extinguished, doused as if by water.
She hunched over, sobbing into her skirt. She was so small. Only a child.
I wanted to hold her.
Dazedly, I walked forward—just as the bodies faded, her form dissolving into smoke. I felt a weight lift, but there was no relief. Only the lingering bitterness of old wounds reopened. I stood alone again in the void, but I knew the trial was far from over.
The chamber shifted, bending as if distorted by time.
I squeezed my eyes shut, shielding them against a rising wind.
When I opened them again, I was standing in the center of a dark whirlpool.
Its shadows pulled at my feet, my arms, my hair.
The rushing vortex towered over me, rising taller than I could see.
CRACK! The air sizzled around me, zapping over my head in a distorted halo.
And there, standing in the heart of the chaos, was my present self.
I tensed, instantly wary.
It was like looking into a mirror. She wore a somber black dress that covered every inch of her skin, long sleeved and high collared, as if she was preparing to mourn something not yet dead.
Shadows wreathed her like loyal pets, growing in power as they tugged at her skirt, but she kept her gaze straight, ignoring them.
“Look at you,” she said, eyes sweeping over me with disdain so precise it felt personal. “You wear your power like it’s silk. Wrap it around your shoulders, lace it into your spine. But you’re rotting underneath.”
“I’m not,” I said flatly, standing my ground. I won’t fall for this again. “I know who I am.”
She tilted her head. “Do you? Do you also know that the Seven won’t ever respect you? That your dreamers whisper behind your back?”
“They have far better things to focus on than me.”
“They wonder what kind of Weaver would tie themselves to a monster like the Shadow Bringer,” she insisted.
“They also wonder what kind of girl would embrace shadow magic and expect not to be Corrupted.” I winced, not expecting her words to wound so deeply.
She barreled on, sensing my discomfort. “The dreamers only follow you because of their circumstances, when in reality they wish they’d been tethered to any other Weaver domain. They hate your shadows.”
“The shadows are an important part of us.”
She scoffed. “Important? You regard them like they’re your god.
You’d feast on the shadows if you could.
You’d lap them into your mouth and swallow them whole,” she accused, stepping closer.
“You like the way the power makes you feel. The control. The fear in your dreamers’ eyes.
You lead them like they’re your puppets. Esmer’s little playthings.”
She was wrong, but it still hurt. “I lead them because I must. And they follow because they believe in what we’re fighting for.”
“They follow because they’re afraid,” she said sharply. “And what’s that voice in your head? It speaks your name like it owns you.”
I said nothing, just shook my head.
Her brown eyes glittered like two round jewels. “Lately it’s been louder, hasn’t it? Asking you to let go. To unleash.”
“You’re just trying to make me doubt myself.”
“No. I’m trying to make you remember yourself.
Your place.” She crossed her arms, regarding me seriously.
“The Shadow Bringer was locked in his castle for a reason. If you stand by his side, wielding your dark power as his twisted queen, you’ll damn us all.
Just like you did everyone who once loved you. ”
“My power isn’t a curse. And Erebus is far more noble than either of us.”
“Of course he is. That’s why a demon lurks inside your head and not his. Tell me, what do you think the voice wants from you? And, more importantly, why do you listen?”
Her words echoed in the whirlpool around us.
The shadows thickened, smothering me. I began to kneel, groaning under their weight—just as she moved to strike.
Our shadows collided, each hit sending shock waves through the tumultuous vortex.
She fought as I did, every move a perfect reflection of my own imperfect strength and skill.
But the more we fought, the more I realized that her power was fueled by fear.
It was in her eyes, the way she flinched from me.
I couldn’t win using calculated strikes.
I’d have to be stronger.
“You’re afraid, and you should be,” I said, growing even more confident when her mouth twitched. “You think I should restrain myself. Deny the power that was made for me. But you’re merely hiding behind your false sense of control. That won’t help us win.”
I shifted tactics, drawing upon a deeper well of power—the resolve that had driven me to protect others, to lead them.
With every attack, I reminded myself of my purpose, my connection to Erebus, to the dreamers, to those who believed in me.
I wasn’t fighting for myself alone. I was fighting for them.
Gradually, the chaos of the storm began to subside, and I felt my present self’s resistance weaken.
She faltered, her own shadows flickering, and in that moment, I struck hard, not with anger, but with determination.
She dissolved into the storm, her cries smothered by the shadows.
For a brief moment, the void around me was silent again, calm. The whirlpool had melted into nothingness. But that peace shattered as the shadows shifted once more and I found myself facing someone I struggled to recognize.
My future self.
This Esmer stood tall, her posture rigid, exuding a chilling, untouchable power.
Her face was an unfeeling mask, her silver eyes cold and devoid of compassion.
Even her hair was drained of color, no longer dark brown but pure white.
This future self was terrifyingly distant, a bastion of absolute control.
And she was utterly alone.
She wore a gown I didn’t recognize, an armored dress formed from pure, light-eating obsidian, and multiple sharp adornments that looked like horns.
Her white hair, perfectly smoothed into a simple twist, rested at the nape of her neck.
Delicate pins held it in place, glimmering like captured starlight, and a spiked crown towered above it.
Her arms and legs were not corporeal; instead, they were made of writhing, living shadows.
“Is this what I become?” I whispered in disbelief, clutching my arms to my chest.
Future Esmer’s gaze bored into me, unfeeling.
“This is what it takes,” she intoned, her voice as unyielding and lifeless as stone. “You are meant to stand alone, untouchable. Attachment is weakness. Compassion will only make you vulnerable. You say you fight for them—the dreamers, Erebus, Elliot. But you need to fight for yourself.”
“No,” I said hoarsely. “Power is meaningless without them. I have people I care about.”
“They drain your potential,” she said icily.
“No, they give me purpose.”
She laughed, a cold, derisive sound that echoed through the empty void. “And what happens when you lose them? When they fall, and you’re left to bear the weight alone? You’ll realize, as I did, that attachments are chains, dragging you down. The only path to true power is cutting them loose.”
My future self raised her hand, made from shadow, and the ground beneath us warped, reshaping into a desolate landscape. Hundreds of silhouettes rose shakily from the earth, shadows of lost allies, of sacrifices made for the sake of her ascent.
I stood my ground, furious. “I won’t let that happen. I won’t become you.”
She smiled, though it was more like a fractured grimace. “You already have, foolish girl.”
I pressed my hand to my chest, as if to hold something steady inside me.
“I watched Mother catch fire after I struck her with a torch. I watched darkness erupt across Father’s face, marking him as Corrupt.
And Eden…” Her name caught in my throat.
I couldn’t bear to voice how I still remembered the vermin blood dripping from her chin.
Or how she looked in her coffin, feet bare and lips upturned in the mockery of a smile.
“She loved dancing. Do you remember that? She used to sneak into the wildflower patch near our house and spin like the wind, laughing like nothing could ever touch her.”
“And then they all died.”
I stepped closer, nodding. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
“Yes. They died. Not because they were weak, but because they loved. Because they tried to protect the people they couldn’t bear to lose.
Even Eden just wanted to make me happy. And I…
” My voice wavered. “I was too late to save them. But that doesn’t mean I stopped caring. Or loving them.”