Shade sat in the cold darkness of his room, the shattered mirror reflecting fragments of his shattered self. Blood from his knuckles stained the floor, but it was the emotional weight of what he had just done that threatened to crush him. The rage had consumed him completely, but even now, as the adrenaline faded, something deep within him still roiled—a question that he couldn't silence, no matter how hard he tried.
What now?
He had killed the boy, killed Elias, buried every trace of who he had been. Yet, in the silence of the room, it felt as if the ghost of that boy lingered in the corners of his mind. His reflection in the broken glass mocked him, the boy's tear-streaked face lingering beneath his own cold, detached stare. It was a fracture in his soul, one he couldn't ignore, no matter how much he wished to.
He stood and paced the room, his hands trembling with the raw, unrelenting fury that had driven him. They made me this way, he thought bitterly, fists clenching. They broke me. But he could feel the haunting truth there too—I let them. He had let them break him, let them strip him of everything that made him human. He had no choice but to walk away from it all. The boy was gone. Elias was gone.
But the price of his transformation was a silent scream that echoed inside him, louder than anything else.
His thoughts were interrupted by the creak of the door opening. The Master's figure stood in the threshold, silent and watchful. His gaze was piercing, but there was no judgment in his eyes, only calculation. Shade didn't acknowledge him, still staring at the broken glass on the floor.
"You've done what was necessary," the Master said, his voice steady, as though the weight of Shade's actions had no effect on him. "But there's a cost to this. To everything."
Shade's lips twisted into a cold smile, but his eyes were distant, hollow. "I've paid the cost," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've paid it all."
The Master stepped inside the room, eyes scanning the shattered remnants of the mirror, the bloodstains, the silence. "You're not the first to go through this," he said. "But you'll have to find a way to live with it. Or it will consume you."
Shade's eyes flickered to the Master, the faintest hint of something resembling anger crossing his features. "I don't need your pity," he spat, his voice low and venomous. "I'm not broken."
The Master raised a brow, unfazed by the outburst. "You might not be broken... yet. But you will be, if you don't master it. All of it."
Shade's fists tightened again, the rage building. But he knew the truth of what the Master said. The hatred inside him, the emptiness, it was consuming him in ways he couldn't control. If he didn't find a way to channel it, to master it, then it would destroy him. But for now, all he could do was feel the heat of it in his veins and let it fuel the emptiness that had overtaken him.
The Master turned to leave, but Shade spoke again, his voice a mere whisper. "What happens next?"
The Master didn't answer immediately. He lingered at the door, his figure a shadow in the dim light. "What happens next is up to you," he said at last. "This path you've chosen… it's only the beginning."
Shade's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. As the Master walked out, closing the door softly behind him, Shade was left alone in the dark, the silence pressing in around him. The boy he had been was gone, and what remained was a hollow shell of vengeance and rage.
But somewhere, deep within, the question still echoed: What now?