The trial chamber stood silent now, its oppressive hum fading into memory. Shade had left, his footsteps long gone, yet the weight of his presence lingered. The Master remained in the shadows, his gaze fixed on the dormant mechanisms.
"He didn't break," the Master mused, his fingers brushing the cold stone wall. "But what walked out of here… isn't the same Shade."
His hand dropped to his side, unease settling in his chest—a sensation foreign to him after years of overseeing trials. For the first time, doubt crept into his thoughts. Perhaps the trial went too far.
In his quarters, Shade leaned over a broken mirror. The jagged shards reflected fractured images of his face, but his focus was elsewhere. In the distortion, he saw Elias—a trembling, wide-eyed boy with disheveled hair and tear-streaked cheeks. Elias's lips moved, though no sound came, his eyes pleading for salvation.
Shade's expression twisted into a snarl. His breath hitched as his fingers dug into the edge of the table.
"I hate you," he whispered, his voice trembling with venom. "I hate you more than anything."
Elias's reflection remained, unflinching, almost mocking. Shade's fist came down hard, shattering the remaining glass. Blood dripped from his knuckles onto the table, smearing across the wood like ink on parchment.
"You let them do it to you," Shade spat, his voice rising, sharp as the glass at his feet. "You let them break you. You let them make you nothing. But you're dead now. Do you hear me? You're gone."
He slammed his bloodied hand against the remnants of the mirror, the sound reverberating through the room. The fractured glass shifted, and the image changed.
Elias disappeared, replaced by Shade's own face—cold, unyielding, and devoid of humanity.
The room seemed to close in around him, the silence pressing heavily on his chest as the weight of his transformation took root. For a long moment, Shade stood motionless, the cold air biting at his bloodied hand.
He was no longer sure what he was feeling, only that the person who had once been Elias had disappeared into nothingness. The last remnants of him were gone, buried beneath layers of rage and emptiness.
The sounds of the arena echoed in the distance—clashing strikes, the snap of chains under pressure. Shade had already moved on, his body now a machine driven by something darker than the rage that had overtaken him in his quarters. His fists connected with brutal precision against the training dummy, each strike more powerful than the last. The chains that once held the dummy in place groaned, their tension mounting until they finally snapped with a sharp, metallic twang.
The Master stood in the shadows of the arena, his eyes narrowing as he watched Shade train. Each strike of Shade's fists was methodical, yet ferocious. Weighted chains rattled under the force of his blows, groaning with each impact. Finally, with a resounding snap, the chains gave way, collapsing in a heap of broken steel. Shade didn't stop. He continued, driving his fists into the splintered remains.
The Master tightened his fist. What am I creating? he thought, his mind racing. This hatred… it's more than a tool. It's a curse, one that will destroy him if he doesn't master it.
"Enough," the Master commanded, his voice sharp as a blade.
Shade froze mid-strike, his breath ragged but controlled. Slowly, he turned, his expression unreadable.
"You didn't break," the Master said, his voice low, yet firm. "But you're teetering on the edge. You'll either master this hatred—or drown in it."
Shade's silence was deafening, his eyes piercing as if challenging the Master's words. Without a response, he turned and walked away, the weight of his presence as oppressive as ever.
Later that night, the Master returned to the trial chamber. He traced the mechanisms with a gloved hand, the torches casting flickering shadows across his face. His brow furrowed as he stared at the dormant structure.
"This was only the beginning," he whispered. "He survived, but surviving is not the same as living."
Elsewhere, Shade sat alone in the dark, his silhouette blending with the shadows around him. His bloodied hand rested on his knee, the faint moonlight reflecting in his hollow eyes.
"I buried Elias," he muttered to himself, his voice low and resolute. "If the world tries to bring him back…" He looked up, his expression one of cold certainty. " I'll burn it to the ground "