The moon hung high over the training ground, casting pale light across the cracked earth. The world was silent now, save for the rhythmic sound of Chen's breath as he sat cross-legged on the ground, struggling to steady himself. The others had left, leaving only Wren behind. He stood a few feet away, arms crossed, watching Chen like a hawk waiting for its prey to slip.
"You think you're making progress?" Wren's voice shattered the stillness, cold and unyielding.
Chen didn't respond immediately. He was too focused on the quiet hum of the presence inside him. It was quieter now, more subdued, but he knew it was only a matter of time before it surged again.
"I held it back," Chen finally said, his voice raw, as though every word cost him something. "That's progress, isn't it?"
Wren scoffed, stepping closer. "Barely. You didn't control it. You contained it. There's a difference."
Chen clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling to the surface. "And what would you have me do, Wren? It's not like there's a manual for this!" He gestured sharply to himself. "You think I want this thing inside me?"
Wren crouched down, his sharp gaze locking with Chen's. "Want has nothing to do with it. It's there. It's yours. And unless you take ownership of it, it's going to tear you apart."
Chen looked away, his hands digging into the dirt beneath him. Ownership. As if this presence was some lost pet he could leash and train. No, it wasn't that simple. It was chaos, wild and untamable, and it didn't care about his resolve or his fear.
"Why do you even care, Wren?" Chen asked after a long silence.
Wren's expression didn't soften, but there was something in his eyes—something Chen couldn't quite place. "Because I've seen what happens when people lose this fight. And because I know the cost of failure."
The words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, Chen thought he saw a flicker of pain cross Wren's face. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the same cold mask he always wore.
Wren stood abruptly, brushing the dirt from his hands. "We're done for tonight. Rest while you can. Tomorrow, we push harder."
Chen watched as Wren turned and walked away, leaving him alone in the silence once more.
The dreams came again that night.
Chen stood in a void, the world around him nothing but shifting shadows and distant whispers. The presence was there, no longer lurking in the corners of his mind but standing before him in the shape of something almost human. Its eyes burned with a dark light, and its voice was a thousand voices at once.
"You can't fight me forever," it said, stepping closer. "You need me. Without me, you are nothing."
Chen stepped back, his fists clenched. "I don't need you. I'll learn to control you. I'll—"
"Control me?" The presence laughed, a sound that echoed endlessly in the void. "You don't even understand me. You think you're strong enough to contain me? To command me?"
Chen tried to speak, but the presence surged forward, its form shifting and expanding, enveloping him in darkness. It pressed against him, suffocating and all-encompassing, its voice now a whisper in his ear.
"You will break," it hissed. "And when you do, I will take what's mine."
Chen woke with a gasp, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving as though he'd been running for miles. The presence was still there, coiled and waiting, but he felt its triumph, its satisfaction at his fear.
He buried his face in his hands, trembling. The fight wasn't just physical. It wasn't even just mental. It was a battle for his very soul, and he was losing ground.
The next morning, Wren wasted no time.
"Again," he barked, his tone brooking no argument.
Chen had barely raised his arms before Kai was on him, moving with speed and precision. Chen managed to deflect the first strike, but his mind was clouded, his reflexes sluggish. Kai pressed the advantage, driving him back step by step.
"Focus!" Wren shouted, his voice cutting through the haze.
Chen tried to obey, but the presence stirred, its dark whispers growing louder. He faltered, and Kai's staff struck his shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground.
"Enough!" Wren's voice rang out, and Kai stepped back, his face shadowed with concern.
Chen lay there, staring up at the sky, his body aching and his mind fractured. He could feel the presence laughing, mocking him from within.
Wren loomed over him, his expression unreadable. "You're still letting it control you. Until you accept that it's a part of you, this is how every fight will end."
Chen sat up slowly, his fists clenching. "And what if I can't?"
Wren's gaze hardened. "Then you die. And so does everyone else."
The weight of those words settled over Chen like a shroud. This wasn't just about him. It was about the people around him, the people who still believed he could win this fight. He couldn't afford to fail—not for himself, and not for them.
He pushed himself to his feet, wincing at the pain. "Again," he said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.
Wren gave a slight nod, and Kai moved back into position.