Chapter 99: The Ones She Left Behind
—Shadow and Phantom—
The wind at the soulstone plateau shifted.
It didn't howl.
It whispered.
A sound older than time, older than scripture—like a conversation the world itself was eavesdropping on.
T'halem remained seated, legs folded, spine straight, as though carved from dusk. His breath was still. A single soul fragment flickered over his palm.
Then—
She arrived.
No footsteps.
No announcement.
Just presence.
Kamharida.
Cloaked in dark silver, her face calm, unreadable. Not hard. Not warm.
She stood a few meters from him—close enough to speak, far enough to mean nothing could happen here that wasn't intended.
They did not move.
Not at first.
Just… watched each other.
Until T'halem finally said,
"I thought you'd come sooner."
Kamharida's voice was even, laced with the discipline of centuries.
"You weren't going anywhere."
A pause. Then—
"I didn't think they'd ever release you."
T'halem's jaw tightened slightly.
"They didn't. He did."
He didn't say Mirex's name.
He didn't have to.
Kamharida lowered her gaze briefly to the soul fragment still hovering in his palm.
"You kept it."
T'halem didn't look at it.
"It was the only thing of hers I was allowed to hold."
Silence stretched between them—gentle, but brittle.
Finally, Kamharida sat across from him, mirroring his posture.
Neither of them looked young anymore.
They looked like memories preserved in breath and bones.
T'halem spoke first.
"Do you still hate me?"
Kamharida blinked slowly.
"No."
He looked up, surprised by the honesty.
She clarified,
"I never did."
A small, breathless sound left him. Not quite a laugh. Not quite relief.
Just… recognition.
T'halem leaned back, eyes toward the cloud-veiled sky.
"I always thought it would be me. That she'd choose me."
"I studied every fragment of her will. Tried to mimic her power, her silence, her structure."
Kamharida watched him. Not judging. Not pitying.
Just there.
"I didn't need her to love me," he continued.
"I just needed her to see me. Once. As more than a loyal mistake."
Kamharida's tone remained gentle, but firm.
"You tried to become her. That was never what she wanted."
T'halem's fist curled slightly.
"And yet she chose someone mortal."
"A man with none of our understanding. No vision. Just… blood. Passion. Mortality."
Kamharida's gaze grew distant.
"That's exactly why she chose him."
"Because he was flawed."
T'halem looked at her now. Truly.
"You loved her too."
Kamharida didn't flinch.
"Yes."
No hesitation.
No shame.
"But I knew it would never be mine. And I chose to serve instead."
Another silence.
He closed his hand slowly. The soul fragment vanished in a whisper of blue dust.
"Did it hurt?"
Kamharida's voice barely carried.
"Only every day for a hundred years."
T'halem exhaled.
Long. Slow.
Then leaned his head back, eyes closed.
"You were always stronger than me."
Kamharida stood.
"No. I just lost quieter."
She turned.
Began to walk away.
But just before fading into the dark edge of the plateau—
T'halem asked,
"Will you try to stop me?"
Kamharida paused.
"If you reach for war—yes."
"But if you've returned only to be seen… then no. I think we've both earned that much."
She vanished.
Just like that.
No threat.
No storm.
Just the echo of what was never said in time.
And T'halem sat again, alone.
Not as the Phantom.
Not as the Father of Dark Soulbornes.
But as a man who had once tried to love a god.
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