Page 83 of In Your Light

His heart hammering, Hadeom wanted to run, but his feet were tangled and stuck, embedded in the blackened ground.

The darkness changed around him, trying to confuse him. Endless hallways of memory twisted into impossible angles. Vastness so unfathomable, so endless. Statues of every monster he had failed watched with hollow eyes.

But the flute never faltered.

It stayed ahead, true and real. Always just beyond the veil. Close enough to hear. Close enough to believe.

Wait, Fyn. Please.

He forced himself onward, tearing through walls of blame that clung to him like tar. Every step felt as though he were dragging mountains behind him.

The music grew stronger.

So close.

He could almost see light ahead, not bright enough to blind him.

It looked like early dawn, a faint glow spilling through the cracks of the darkness. His heart pounded.

He could picture Fyn. His warm smile, his moss-coloured eyes.

His shadows began to dance in anticipation. He could almost picture Fyn now. Standing somewhere beyond that light, eyes closed as he played. His curls moving with the effort, his lips caressing the wooden flute, his fingers dancing effortlessly across polished wood.

Waiting and guiding him home.

One more step, and another. He was so close. The light widened, and the flute swelled into the final phrase.

Hadeom reached toward it, desperate to touch it, to feel its warmth⁠—

And then silence.

It struck harder than any blade.

No.

The light flickered.

No.

The darkness surged forward like a starving monster, like every creature he’d ever slayed had become the darkness and was coming for him.

Fyn!

Nothing answered.

The silence was unbearable.

He spun wildly, searching every direction. No, no, no....

His breathing became ragged, and his voice cracked. I heard you. I saw your light.

But there was only nothing.

His shadows wrapped around him again, sinking back into him, dissolving to become part of him, filling in the edges.

But something had changed.

For the first time in what felt like centuries, he remembered warmth. He remembered music. He remembered that someone had been searching for him. Hadeom clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms. He was done with the darkness.