He didn't know what would happen if he followed the Herald.
Would he be bound again?
Would he be unmade?
Or would he become what he was always meant to be?
But more importantly—
Would he lose himself?
Would he stop being Aiden?
He looked at his hand.
It flickered—briefly becoming a thing of starfire and silence, then returning to flesh.
There was still time.
"I refuse," he said, voice like iron wrapped in sorrow.
"I've seen what's out there."
"And I choose this world. I choose to fight."
The Herald didn't flinch.
It didn't plead.
It simply raised one hand—and the laws of this realm began to bend.
Light turned into thought.
Sound became weight.
Breath became memory.
And then—
"Then we will take you."
The battle began.
It wasn't a clash of weapons.
It was a war of truths.
Each thought Aiden had became a shield.
Each scar, a blade.
The Herald spoke names of things that had never been, hoping to erase him.
Aiden answered with will.
