Aiden opened his eyes.
The shadow had begun to take color—not shape, but tone.
Like a voice made visible.
Like grief made into light.
He stepped forward.
"Who are you?" he asked gently.
The reply came from the soil, from the sky, from the heartbeat of the land.
"I am the one who was never chosen."
A pause.
Then: "I am what remains when every version of you forgets me."
Aiden staggered.
He remembered, then.
Not as a hero.
Not as a god.
But as a boy.
Alone.
Afraid.
Standing before a mirror, wondering why he had been left behind in a world that didn't want him.
This presence… this name…
It wasn't another entity.
It was his shadow.
The version of him no one ever saw.
The one he left behind in every ascension, every timeline, every rewrite.
The one he thought he had outgrown.
—
The Pact watched in silence.
They did not interfere.
This was between selves.
Between versions.
Between the chosen and the forgotten.
The Named and the one who had waited.
