The library had fallen silent after yesterday's battle, but silence was deceptive. Mohamed paced the empty aisles, his hands trembling, his heart still racing. He could feel it—the pull of memories that had yet to be reclaimed, lurking in the corners of his mind like predators waiting for a misstep.
I survived. I controlled the fragments. But… am I truly in control?
The thought clung to him, unrelenting, as he recalled Selene's words: "Fear is natural. But you cannot let it decide your path."
He had to control it. He had to.
Selene appeared quietly, perched atop a stack of ancient books as if gravity didn't apply to her. "You're late," she said, her violet eyes gleaming under the dim light. "I didn't think you'd have the courage to return tonight."
"I… I need more practice," Mohamed admitted. "I don't know if I can handle it all. The power… the memories… it's overwhelming."
Selene tilted her head, a faint smile curving her lips. "Good. That means you understand what's at stake. Power without understanding is a curse. You are beginning to awaken—but awakening is only the first step."
She guided him to a small, circular chamber at the back of the library. The air was thick with the scent of old books and a strange energy that made his hair stand on end. "Tonight," she said, "we push beyond the fragments you've reclaimed. You will reach into memories that aren't yours. Memories that are… dangerous."
Mohamed swallowed. Dangerous? What does that mean?
"Some memories are powerful," Selene explained. "Some are corrupted, twisted by fear, anger, or betrayal. If you cannot control them… they will consume you. And the worst part? You may not survive mentally intact."
I have no choice, he thought. If I want to survive… if I want to fight… I have to do it.
She gestured, and a book floated in front of him, pages fluttering like wings. Mohamed hesitated before opening it. The moment he touched the pages, images poured into his mind—flashes of fire, blood, shadowed figures, screaming voices, and a cold, empty landscape.
He staggered backward, hands pressed to his temples. This… is too much…
Selene's voice was calm, almost soothing. "Anchor yourself. Focus on one thread. A single memory. Control it. Do not let the chaos control you."
Mohamed closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. He reached for a memory from his childhood, a small, faint fragment of safety: the warmth of his mother's hand, the laughter of his younger self in a sunlit room. He clung to it, letting it anchor him, letting the other fragments swirl around but not consume him.
I can… I can do this…
At first, it worked. The chaotic images slowed, becoming vivid but controllable. Mohamed felt exhilaration—he was shaping them, bending the fragments into coherent visions. Light flickered from his hands as the memories manifested into ethereal projections: a floating city street, a forest path, a burning battlefield—all under his control.
Selene nodded approvingly. "Good. But this is only the beginning. The deeper the memory, the greater the temptation. Some fragments will whisper to you. Some will offer power… if you take it at a cost."
Whisper to me? Mohamed thought. What cost?
Then it happened.
One fragment surged violently, resisting him. It wasn't a memory from his life—it was foreign, dark, twisted. Shadows swirled within it, and a voice hissed in his mind, echoing promises: "Take it. Power beyond comprehension. No limits. Rule the world. No one can stop you."
Mohamed's fingers trembled. His pulse raced. I… I can feel it… the energy… it's…
Selene's voice cut through the chaos. "Do not take it. Anchor yourself, now!"
But the fragment was too strong. Mohamed's control faltered. Reality around him warped. Books tumbled, walls seemed to stretch and contract, shadows leaked from corners like living ink. He stumbled, collapsing to his knees.
I… I can't…
And then he saw it—a vision of himself, older, darker, standing on a hill surrounded by destruction. Villages burned, shadows walked like humans, eyes glowing red. And he was holding a sword, blood dripping from his hands.
Fear, horror, exhilaration—everything collided. Is this me? he thought. Am I becoming that?
Selene crouched beside him. "You're touching the edge of forbidden memory. Control it, or it will control you. This is the truth of power, Mohamed. Every choice, every memory… shapes you. Use it wisely—or be consumed."
Mohamed gritted his teeth. He forced his mind to anchor, forcing the dark fragment to retract, locking it away in a mental prison. Sweat ran down his face, heart hammering, chest heaving.
I… survived… but barely.
A sudden sound startled him—a metallic scrape, low and deliberate. He looked up. Shadows moved in the corners of the library. He hadn't noticed them before.
"Not good," Selene muttered, eyes narrowing. "They know you are awakening."
Mohamed's stomach tightened. The Eclipsed Order… again?
From the shadows, a familiar presence emerged. The scarred figure of Ryoto Nobunga stepped into the light, tall, menacing, his red eyes gleaming.
"Still learning," Ryoto said softly. "Fragile, uncertain… yet dangerous. This is what makes you interesting."
Mohamed rose, shaking but determined. He could feel the fragment's lingering energy inside him, now dormant but waiting. I will not let them break me… not now… not ever.
Selene's voice was calm, but deadly: "He's a master of shadows, Mohamed. Do not underestimate him. This is only the beginning. And he will touch your mind sooner or later."
Ryoto's lips curved into a faint, sinister smile. "Do you know what is more dangerous than the enemy outside? The shadows inside your mind… and how easily they obey you… or betray you."
Mohamed felt a chill. Shadows inside my mind… betrayal… The thought echoed, terrifying and exhilarating.
The chapter ended with the library trembling, shadows creeping along the walls, and Mohamed standing in the center, half-frightened, half-awakened, realizing the true cost of his power.