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Kaelen froze, the world around him coming to a standstill. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the cloaked figure before him. The stranger's eyes—no, not a stranger—were unmistakable. They were his own.
For a moment, the figure remained motionless, as if studying Kaelen, reading him. The silence between them stretched for an eternity, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade. Then, slowly, the figure lowered their hood, revealing a face Kaelen knew all too well.
It was him. Or, rather, it was a version of him—a darker, older reflection. The face that stared back at him was Kaelen's own, but twisted with a look of cold indifference, as if the years had worn away any trace of warmth or humanity.
"Kaelen," the figure spoke, their voice a smooth, gravelly echo of his own. It was not an exact match but close enough to send a chill down his spine. "So this is how it ends."
Kaelen's pulse quickened. "Who are you?" His voice was barely a whisper, the question raw and desperate. Was this some kind of illusion? A hallucination brought on by the storm?
The figure smiled, the expression eerie in its familiarity. "I am you. Or, rather, I am what you were meant to become." There was a cruel edge to their voice, a mockery of everything Kaelen had been fighting for. "The storm within you… it's only a glimpse of what you truly are."
Kaelen staggered back, his breath hitching. The words hit him like a physical blow. *What you were meant to become?* The storm, the power… it wasn't just something he had to control. It was something tied to him—something he was destined for.
"Why?" Kaelen managed to choke out. "Why are you here? What do you want from me?"
The figure tilted its head, eyes narrowing with an unreadable emotion. "What I want is irrelevant. You've already made the choice. This power, this curse—it's within you, Kaelen. It always has been. You cannot outrun it."
Seraphine's voice rang out behind him, sharp and clear. "Kaelen, what's going on?"
Kaelen tore his gaze away from the dark reflection of himself, only to see Seraphine, Lira, and Garak standing at the edge of the crowd. The confusion and concern on their faces were evident, but Kaelen could barely focus on them. His mind was reeling from the revelation.
The figure smiled, the expression twisted with malice. "Tell them," it said softly. "Tell them what you truly are."
Before Kaelen could respond, the figure turned away, vanishing into the crowd with an almost supernatural grace. Kaelen stood there, rooted to the spot, the weight of the encounter crashing down on him like a tidal wave.
"Kaelen?" Lira's voice broke through his thoughts, but he didn't respond. His mind was racing. That figure—*it was him,* but it wasn't. It was like looking into a mirror that reflected the worst parts of himself, the parts he feared most. He couldn't even begin to comprehend the depth of what it had said. *What he was meant to become.*
"I…" Kaelen swallowed hard, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, his eyes flicked back toward the crowd where the figure had disappeared, the gnawing feeling in his gut growing with every passing second. "I don't know what that was."
Seraphine stepped forward, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You've seen that person before, haven't you?"
Kaelen's heart skipped a beat, and for the first time since meeting Seraphine, he didn't have an answer. He opened his mouth, but the words eluded him. There were no memories of this dark version of himself, no past connection, just the overwhelming sense that it had always been there, lurking beneath the surface.
"I need to think," Kaelen muttered, his voice distant. "I need to process this."
Garak, ever the one to break tension, clapped him on the back. "Hey, don't go too deep into your head now. We've got bigger fish to fry than creepy versions of you running around." His attempt at humor was half-hearted, but Kaelen appreciated it all the same.
"I'm not sure it's that simple," Kaelen murmured, glancing toward the door. "Something's wrong here. Something's tied to me, and I need to find out what it is."
Lira gave him a long, unreadable look. "We'll find answers. Together."
Her words, though comforting, didn't settle the storm within him. In fact, the storm only seemed to grow more restless, its presence more demanding with each passing second. It was like it could sense the danger, the uncertainty Kaelen was feeling, and it fed on it, growing stronger, hungrier.
"We should rest," Seraphine said, her voice gentle but firm. "We've been through a lot today. Tomorrow, we find answers."
Kaelen nodded, but the truth of it settled heavily in his chest. He didn't need rest. Not really. What he needed was clarity. What he needed was to face whatever darkness had been awakened inside him and find out if he could truly control it—or if it would control him.
---
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Kaelen's thoughts refused to quiet, the image of the figure and its chilling words haunting him. No matter how hard he tried to focus on anything else, the memory of their conversation gnawed at him, threatening to swallow him whole.
By the time the group turned in for the night, Kaelen was restless. He lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear. The storm inside him was a constant hum in the back of his mind, a reminder that his fate was already sealed, whether he liked it or not.
But the question lingered—*Who was he really?* Was he a hero, as Seraphine had believed? Or was he destined to become the very thing he feared?
The answer would come. Kaelen could feel it in his bones.
But for now, all he could do was wait.
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