Chapter 22: Shadows of Memory
Morgan's eyes snapped open, the vivid images of the past still playing on the edges of his mind. He blinked, pushing away the lingering memories of the Choujin War. The sounds of destruction, the shadowy tendrils, and his brother Ted's fierce gaze as they fought side by side—all of it began to blur as reality settled in.
He lay on a cot in the temporary barracks, the soft glow of morning light filtering through the cracks in the dilapidated walls. The familiar scent of metal and sweat filled the air, mingling with the sharp, bitter tang of antiseptic. His body ached, as if the battle he had just relived in his dream had been real.
Morgan sat up, wincing as a wave of pain shot through his back. He reached up to rub his temples, feeling the tension there—both physical and mental. The war had been over for years, but the scars it left, both visible and hidden, refused to fade. He couldn't escape it.
He glanced around the room, ensuring he was alone. Good. He reached into the pocket of his coat hanging nearby and pulled out a small, inconspicuous vial, filled with a strange, iridescent liquid. The bottle was cold in his hand, its glass surface smooth and delicate, like a fragile secret waiting to shatter.
For a moment, Morgan simply stared at it, his reflection barely visible in the shimmering liquid. This was a drug unlike any other—a creation of the Midnight Sun's deepest secrets, a concoction that most people in the world didn't even know existed. A forbidden substance, one that promised both salvation and destruction.
His fingers trembled as he uncorked the vial and brought it to his lips. The taste was bitter, cold like ice, and it sent a shiver down his spine as it took hold of him. He closed his eyes, feeling the familiar rush—power surging through his veins, sharpening his senses, pushing back the fatigue that had settled in his bones. His muscles relaxed, the dull ache from the battle with Ryan receding, but it wasn't just relief he sought. This drug did more than heal; it gave him an edge, a dark clarity that allowed him to push beyond his limits.
But there was a cost. Always a cost.
Morgan quickly corked the vial and slipped it back into his coat, tucking it away in an inner pocket, hidden from prying eyes. He knew how dangerous this was, knew the toll it was taking on him each time he used it. But he couldn't stop. Not now, not when so much was at stake. Not when the darkness inside him threatened to tear him apart without it.
A soft knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. Jane's voice called from the other side, her tone cool and composed, as always. "Morgan, we're ready for you."
Morgan stood, pushing the vial further into the shadows of his coat. He couldn't afford for anyone to know. Not even Jane, his most trusted lieutenant.
"I'll be right there," he called out, his voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil that churned beneath the surface. With one last glance at the hidden vial, he straightened his jacket and headed toward the door.
But as he stepped out into the daylight, his mind wandered back to Ted, to the shadows they had fought, and to the darkness he now carried within himself. The drug dulled that darkness, for now—but how long could he keep it at bay? How long before it consumed him like it had consumed Ryan?
Morgan clenched his fists, his expression hardening. No matter the cost, he would control it. He had to.