I hit the ground hard.
But it wasn't like any landing I'd experienced. There was no earth beneath me, no solid surface. Just the sensation of falling, a gut-wrenching spiral that twisted the air around me. The light blazed in every direction, and I couldn't tell where it was coming from or how far it stretched. I felt like I was trapped in some insane dream, like reality was slipping through my fingers, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
But that voice… Krisian's voice... it wouldn't leave me.
"I'll be seeing you soon."
I shook my head, gritting my teeth. "I'm not going crazy. I'm not."
Then, the world snapped back into place.
I blinked, and suddenly I was standing in the middle of what looked like an abandoned city. Streets that should have been filled with noise, life, and movement were quiet—too quiet. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust. The buildings looked like they'd been empty for years, their windows shattered, doors ajar. And the air... it tasted like ash.
I wasn't alone.
A figure stood before me. Taller, broader, and with a presence that was almost suffocating. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and I felt my heart skip a beat.
Krisian.
He didn't look any different from before. Same sharp features. Same eerie calm. But now, his form seemed more solid, more real.
"You can't escape this, Henry," he said, voice smooth like oil on water. "You don't get to pretend this is just a bad dream. This is who you are now. This is who I am."
I clenched my fists. "You're not me."
Krisian laughed, a low chuckle that echoed off the empty buildings. "No, I am you. The part of you that you've tried so hard to bury. The anger. The power. The drive." He stepped closer, the ground beneath him cracking with each step. "You think you can keep running? From me? From yourself?"
I took a step back, but my legs felt heavy. Like something was pulling at me, keeping me in place. He was right. I was tired. But I wasn't ready to give up yet.
"I'm not you," I said, more firmly this time. "I'm not gonna let you win."
Krisian's smile widened. "Oh, Henry… You've been playing this game for so long, and I've been watching. You're so close to breaking. So close to giving in." His eyes glinted, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something humanin him—something almost familiar. "But I'm not going to take it all at once. No. I'll let you fight. Let you struggle. Because in the end, it won't matter."
I backed away, but the ground seemed to close in on me, trapping me. "What do you want from me?"
He stepped even closer, now only a few feet away. "I want what's mine. The power. The freedom. The chaos." He tilted his head. "And I want you to stop fighting it."
I swallowed hard, every instinct telling me to run, to escape. But there was nowhere to go.
"Just let go, Henry," Krisian said, almost sweetly. "Let me take over. I'll fix everything. I'll make it all stop."
For a moment, a dangerous thought crept into my mind: What if he was right? What if it would be easier to just give in, to stop carrying the weight of the world?
Then I remembered why I was fighting. I wasn't just fighting for myself. I was fighting for everyone who'd ever been crushed by the world's cruelty. For every person who'd ever had their dreams burned away.
"I won't let you," I said, more to myself than to him.
Krisian raised an eyebrow. "You'll see. We'll see."
The world around us started to warp, bending and twisting like the very fabric of reality was unravelling. I felt a pull, deep inside, like something was trying to take root within me. My vision blurred, and I could feel Krisian's presence inside my mind, clawing its way in.
But I wasn't giving up. Not yet.
"I'm not you," I said again, forcing the words through the tightness in my chest.
Krisian's smirk faltered, just for a second. But in that second, I knew I still had a chance.
The battle had only just begun.
I woke up to a nightmare.
But it wasn't just the darkness. It wasn't just the suffocating silence, or the feeling that something was watching me. No. This was worse. This was real.
My body ached like it had been through a thousand battles. My skin burned with the marks of the beating, the sting of every strike still fresh. My vision blurred as I forced myself to sit up, my heart pounding in my chest. And there, in front of me, was a face I knew all too well.
The one who had betrayed me.
My friend.
My servant.
His teeth were bared, dripping with my blood. His eyes—those hollow, dead eyes—glared at me with pure contempt.
I scrambled back, my mind racing, but I couldn't move fast enough. He lunged again, biting into my shoulder with a snarl. His grip was like iron, and I screamed, the pain overwhelming. But just as quickly as it began, he pulled away, his breath ragged, eyes wild with something... hunger.
I pushed myself to my feet, stumbling toward the door. I had to get out. I had to escape. I couldn't let him do this to me. Not again.
I ran.
The halls of the castle were eerily silent as I sprinted, my heart pounding in my ears. I didn't stop until I reached the door to my father's chambers. I slammed my fists against it, desperate.
"Father! Help me!" I shouted, my voice raw with fear.
The door opened, revealing the towering figure of Vordimoth, the Emperor of this broken empire. His gaze, cold as ice, fell on me, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Regret? Guilt? But it was gone as quickly as it came.
"Stop wasting my time, Henry," he muttered, his voice cold, dismissive. "Go to your room."
I wanted to scream, to beg him to help me, but the words wouldn't come. He turned, not even looking at me, as he walked away. I stood there for a long moment, the silence pressing in on me like a heavy weight, and then I did what I had to do.
I ran again.
Back to my room, where the walls felt like they were closing in on me. I threw myself onto the bed, my head spinning with thoughts of Krisian—of what he wanted, of what he was inside me. I could still hear his voice, so clear in my head.
"Let me take over, Henry. You're breaking."
I buried my face in my hands, trembling. Could I keep fighting? Could I keep going? Or was it all too much? The darkness, the betrayals, the constant pain...
And then, I saw it.
The door opened, and there stood my father, Vordimoth. His expression was unreadable, but I could see the fury in his eyes.
"What were you telling me?" he asked, his tone dangerous.
"The servant—he bit me! He attacked me! He's—" I couldn't even finish the sentence, my words choking in my throat. But I didn't need to. My father's eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward.
"Okay. I'll call Alfonso. He'll take care of it. Don't worry, Henry."
I was about to protest, to tell him it wasn't just a bite—it was something darker—but before I could say anything, Vordimoth placed his hand on my head, pressing it down gently.
"Alfonso is my loyal friend. He won't do anything to hurm you. You'll see."
His voice was soft now, almost comforting, but it did nothing to ease the cold knot in my stomach. He kissed me on the forehead, like I was a child, and turned away.
"I have a meeting. We'll talk soon. Love you."
I watched as he walked out of the room, his back turned as he disappeared down the hall. I could feel my world crumbling around me, piece by piece.
And then Alfonso came.
He wasn't the same servant who had attacked me. No, this was a monster in human skin. He was tall, with the same cold, calculating eyes as my father. When he stepped inside, his gaze locked onto me, and I felt a sick, twisted sense of dread coil in my stomach.
He walked toward me with slow, deliberate steps, a cruel smile spreading across his face.
"How dare you snitch to your father," Alfonso growled, his voice low and menacing. "You pathetic imbecile. I'll teach you not to meddle with things you don't understand."
Before I could react, his fist connected with my stomach, and I collapsed, gasping for breath. Pain flared through my ribs, my vision going white. The blows kept coming, one after another, until I couldn't feel anything anymore. My body went numb, the darkness sweeping over me.
I woke up again.
But this time, it wasn't my room. It wasn't the castle. It was the same familiar blackness—the same crushing void I had become too familiar with.
And there, sitting on a throne of obsidian, was Krisian.
He looked like he had been waiting for me, a glass of wine swirling lazily in his hand. His eyes met mine, and the smirk that tugged at his lips was both maddening and knowing.
"Welcome back, Henry," he said smoothly, his voice a velvet caress that made my skin crawl. "I see you've been having some... family trouble."
I swallowed hard, my mouth dry, my body shaking from the beatings, the bruises still aching.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked, barely able to get the words out.
Krisian leaned back in his throne, swirling the wine around in its glass. "Because, my dear Henry, you're broken. You've always been. And I've been watching, waiting for the perfect moment to finally step in. To take over."
His smile widened, and I felt a cold shiver run down my spine.
"Tell me, Henry," he mused. "How much longer can you keep running?"
I stared at Krisian, the dark presence that had taken root inside my mind. His calm, taunting demeanor only deepened the sense of dread that gnawed at my insides. I wanted to scream, to lash out, but my body felt heavy, like I was drowning in an ocean of my own despair. I couldn't move, couldn't think clearly. All I could hear was his voice, echoing through my thoughts, each word laced with cold certainty.
"Henry, you've been through enough. You've suffered enough. That's why I'm here. I'm here to take control. To help you."
I shuddered as the words washed over me, trying to pull me deeper into the abyss. My head spun, the room around me blurring as if the very air was thickening, suffocating me. I wanted to fight back, to regain control of my own mind, but every part of me was worn thin—exhausted from the constant battles, the betrayals, the pain.
"Just rest, Henry," Krisian continued, his voice smooth and persuasive. "When the time is right, when the light returns, I'll let you come back. I'll give you control again. But for now, just let go. Let me handle everything."
I tried to push him away, tried to drown out his voice. But it was impossible. He was everywhere, inside me, outside me, in every corner of my mind.
"When did you come into my mind?" I managed to rasp, my throat raw with fear and frustration. "When were you born?"
The silence that followed felt like an eternity. I could feel Krisian's presence grow stronger, like a shadow enveloping me, wrapping around my very soul. And then, with a quiet sigh, he answered.
"The day our suffering started."
His words sent a shiver through me, and I recoiled as if struck. My thoughts scattered in every direction, trying to make sense of what he meant, but there was no clarity. His voice was the only thing that anchored me now, but it was no longer a comfort—it was a chain.
"Our suffering, Henry," Krisian's voice whispered again, so close it felt like he was right beside me. "You think you've been suffering alone. But we've always been bound together, from the very beginning. Your pain... your fears... they awakened me. And I've been waiting, patiently, for the right moment to take control."
I shook my head, my chest tightening as the weight of his words settled in. How could I have not seen it? How had I been so blind?
"No. You're wrong. I'm not... I'm not like you!" I screamed, even as my voice wavered with doubt. "You're not real!"
Krisian's laughter rang out, soft and cold, like the sound of shattered glass. "Not real? Oh, Henry. I am as real as your darkest thoughts. As real as the pain you've carried all these years."
His voice was so smooth, so alluring, that I could feel myself beginning to slip. I was losing myself.
"You don't have to keep fighting," Krisian whispered, his words like poison seeping into my veins. "You don't have to keep running. Let me take the reins. Let me handle everything. When the time is right, I will release you. But for now, just rest. Let go, Henry. Let me help you."
I felt myself weakening, my resolve crumbling. I had nothing left. No strength. No hope.
But then, a small flicker of resistance sparked inside me, as faint as a dying ember.
"No," I whispered to myself, barely able to breathe. "I can't... I can't give up. I have to fight. I won't let you win, Krisian."
I didn't know how, but something inside me refused to surrender. I wasn't sure if it was willpower or desperation, but I would not let him take me. Not completely.
And yet, as Krisian's voice echoed through my mind, I knew this fight was far from over. Every part of me screamed to give in, to let him take control. But deep down, I still held on to the flicker of who I was, the part of me that refused to be consumed by darkness.
"We'll see, Henry," Krisian murmured, his tone both mocking and sad. "We'll see how long you can hold out. But remember this: in the end, you'll have no choice."
The darkness closed in again, but this time, I wasn't alone.
I wasn't alone.
As Henry's consciousness drifted back to reality, his body ached, his skin bruised from Alfonso's beating. He gasped, his breath shaky, his heart pounding against his ribs. The room was dim, the cold air pressing against his skin, yet all he could feel was the weight of his past crashing down on him like a tidal wave.
His voice, weak yet determined, escaped his lips. "When... when was he born?"
He didn't need to clarify who he was. The answer was already unraveling in his mind. Krisian wasn't just a voice, an intruder in his head. He was a part of him—one that had been there all along, hidden in the deepest corners of his pain.
And then, the memories flooded in.
Henry's beginning was bright, almost perfect. He was born into the grand halls of the empire, wrapped in the warmth of love from two parents who once cherished him. A prince, destined for greatness. Every glance he received was filled with admiration. Every touch was gentle. Every word was spoken with love. The world had seemed so simple then, so full of light.
But that light didn't last.
At the fragile age of three, the world revealed its cruelty. Georgia, the maid assigned to care for him, betrayed that innocence in the most unforgivable way. She stole more than just his trust—she shattered the safety of his childhood. And when it was over, she left, walking away as if nothing had happened. As if he was nothing. And no one—no one—cared.
There was no justice. No punishment. No comforting embrace to tell him everything would be okay.
His parents, the ones who once adored him, turned distant, their love fading like a dying flame. It was as if they could no longer stand the sight of him. They didn't acknowledge his pain, didn't see the brokenness behind his eyes. He was no longer the child they had once treasured—he was something else now. Something less.
Then came the betrayals.
Friends—if they could even be called that—used him, mocked him, turned on him when he needed them most. They whispered behind his back, laughed at his suffering, and pushed him deeper into isolation. They beat him when no one was watching, tore him down until there was nothing left.
He had cried, night after night, alone in his chambers, waiting for someone to save him. But no one ever came.
He had begged for love, for mercy, for someone to see him. But all he received was indifference.
And so, bit by bit, something inside him changed.
That was when Krisian was born.
Krisian—the part of him that refused to be weak. The part of him that would never cry again. The part of him that promised he would never be a victim.
Now, as Henry sat in the cold silence of his room, the weight of these memories pressing down on him, he realized something.
Krisian wasn't just a voice in his head.
Krisian was him.
And maybe… just maybe, Krisian was right.
Maybe it was time to stop fighting. Maybe it was time to let go.
The Rise of Krisian
Darkness wrapped around Henry's mind like a suffocating mist, but for the first time, he did not fight it. He let go. He surrendered.
And then, Krisian opened his eyes.
The first thing he noticed was the warmth of Alfonso's arms, the firm grip around his body as the brute carried him. But that grip meant nothing to Krisian. He was no longer the weak and trembling Henry.
With a calm yet commanding tone, he spoke. "Let go of me. At once."
His voice was different now—sharper, stronger. It carried the weight of authority, the weight of someone who knew they deserved respect.
Alfonso halted, his grip loosening slightly. He blinked, taken aback. The Henry he knew was meek, fragile, easy to break. But this? This was someone else entirely.
Krisian's eyes locked onto his, unwavering. "Do you not know who I am? I am the heir of Vordimoth Voss. You will respect and obey me as your master."
For a moment, there was silence.
Then, Alfonso threw his head back and laughed. A cruel, mocking sound. "You? Trying to act tough? Acting like some big boy now?" He shook his head, amusement in his eyes. "You think a change of tone will make you strong? You're still the same pathetic little—"
"Sit on the floor."
The command came so suddenly, so calmly, that Alfonso barely had time to react. And yet, before he could stop himself, his legs buckled. As if some unseen force had pushed him down, he fell onto the cold stone floor.
Shock spread across his face. What… what just happened?
Krisian tilted his head slightly, a slow smirk forming on his lips. He took a step forward, looming over the guard who had once beaten him mercilessly.
"That's where you belong," Krisian said, his voice like silk wrapped around steel.
Alfonso's hands trembled. He couldn't understand it, but something about this boy—this new Henry—sent chills down his spine.
Krisian let the moment stretch before finally speaking again.
"I believe I forgot to introduce myself properly." His smirk widened, and his eyes glowed with a new, dangerous fire. "My name is Henry Voss. But you… you may call me Krisian."
Krisian turned away from Alfonso, leaving him frozen on the cold stone floor, too stunned to react. Without another word, he strode through the dimly lit corridors of the castle, his steps firm and unwavering.
The torches flickered as he passed, casting long shadows against the ancient walls. The air smelled of burning wax and old stone—a scent Henry had grown accustomed to over the years. But Krisian was not Henry. Not anymore.
As he reached his chambers, he shut the heavy wooden door behind him and exhaled slowly. His room was just as he remembered—large, yet suffocating. The grand bed with velvet drapes, the tall bookshelves filled with stories he was never allowed to enjoy, the cold marble floor that had once felt like a prison.
He walked to the center of the room and sank to the floor, crossing his legs. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, feeling the energy shift within him.
This was new.
For years, he had only known pain, humiliation, and weakness. But now… now he felt something else. Power. Control.
He let his mind drift, sinking deeper into the silence. The world around him faded, and within the darkness of his mind, a voice echoed.
"You finally understand, don't you?"
Krisian smirked. "I do."
"Good. Then listen well. Power is not given. It is taken. And you… you were always meant to take it."
His breathing slowed, his muscles relaxed, and for the first time in years, he felt free.