The quiet of the guildhall felt oppressive, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken fears. Caden lay on the cot in his room, staring at the low ceiling. His body ached less than it had the day before, but his mind felt fractured, his thoughts swirling like a storm he couldn't escape.
The shard pulsed faintly in his pocket, its rhythm unsteady and irregular, mirroring the tension building inside him. He could feel it there, not just physically but in his thoughts—pressing, whispering, lurking at the edges of his mind.
"You're stronger with me," a voice whispered.
He jolted upright, his chest heaving as he looked around the room. There was no one there, only the faint creak of wood and the muffled sounds of life in the guildhall below.
Caden pressed his palms to his temples, squeezing his eyes shut. Not real. It's not real.
But the whispers continued.
"They don't trust you..."
"You're nothing without this power..."
"They'll abandon you when it matters most..."
Caden shook his head violently, standing and pacing the small room. His fingers brushed the shard in his pocket, and its hum grew stronger, feeding the dark thoughts. He clenched his fists, willing the voices to stop, but they persisted, relentless.
A knock at the door broke the spell, and Caden froze, his breathing ragged.
"Caden?" Garrick's voice was steady but tinged with concern. "You've been up here all morning."
"I'm fine," Caden called, his voice sharper than he intended.
The door opened anyway, and Garrick stepped inside, closing it softly behind him. His gaze swept over Caden, taking in the pale complexion, the trembling hands, the hollow eyes.
"You don't look fine," Garrick said, leaning his staff against the wall. "What's going on?"
Caden sank onto the cot, burying his face in his hands. "It's the shard," he admitted after a long pause. "It's... loud. It doesn't stop. I can't—" He cut himself off, his voice breaking.
Garrick sat on the stool beside him, his expression grave. "The shard's influence is stronger when you're vulnerable. It feeds on doubt, fear, and anger. You've used it too much, too quickly, and now it's pushing back."
"I can't keep it out," Caden said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's in my head. It's twisting everything."
"You can," Garrick said firmly. "But not by fighting it directly. The more you resist, the more power you give it. You need to center yourself—find something stronger to hold onto than its whispers."
Caden looked up at him, his eyes hollow. "Like what? What do I have that's stronger than this thing?"
"That's for you to decide," Garrick replied. "But if you let it control you, it'll turn you into the very thing you're fighting against."
Caden swallowed hard, the weight of Garrick's words pressing down on him. He nodded slowly, though the doubt lingered in his chest.
The rest of the day passed in a haze.
Kael stopped by briefly, leaning against the doorframe with her usual smirk. "You look like someone who's been wrestling his own shadow," she said, her tone light but her gaze sharp.
"That's not far off," Caden muttered.
Kael stepped inside, crossing her arms. "Look, I don't care what kind of mess you've got going on in your head, but you'd better get it together. That shard is a tool. Use it like one, or it's going to use you."
"Thanks for the advice," Caden said, his tone colder than he intended.
Kael raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. "Just don't drag us down with you," she said, turning to leave. "Get some sleep. You'll need it."
That night, the dreams returned.
Caden stood in the same shadowed hall, the distorted reflections staring back at him. This time, the whispers were louder, more insistent.
"Take the power..."
"Leave them behind..."
"They'll never understand you..."
The reflections moved closer, their shards glowing brighter.
"You don't need them," one hissed.
"You're better alone," another said, its voice venomous.
Caden clenched his fists, trembling with the effort to block out the voices. "You're wrong," he said through gritted teeth.
"Am I?" one reflection asked, stepping forward. It raised its shard, the light illuminating its face—a perfect mirror of Caden's own. "You've already started listening. You've already felt the pull. Why deny it?"
"I'm not like you," Caden said, his voice trembling.
"You are me," the reflection said, its tone mocking. "You're just too afraid to admit it."
The reflection lunged, and Caden braced himself, summoning every ounce of willpower he had.
"No!" he roared, the sound shattering the hall and plunging him into darkness.
Caden woke with a gasp, his chest heaving and his skin damp with sweat. The whispers were quiet now, but their echoes lingered, a faint shadow at the edges of his mind.
He sat on the edge of the cot, staring at his hands. They trembled faintly, but he felt a flicker of control returning. He wasn't free of the shard's influence, but he had pushed it back—for now.
When Garrick entered the room later, Caden looked up at him, his expression weary but resolute. "I'll fight it," he said quietly. "I won't let it win."
Garrick nodded, his gaze steady. "Good. That's the first step."
As the day passed, Caden rested, forcing himself to eat and focus on regaining his strength. The whispers were still there, waiting, but he knew now that they didn't own him.
The shard was a burden, but it was also a challenge—one he intended to overcome.