Cassian felt… different.
Not stronger. Not faster. Just off. Like he was wearing someone else's skin, like the air around him was pressing too close, too quiet. His heart beat in strange rhythms, each pulse echoing in his ears like a war drum muffled underwater.
And the silence—it wasn't natural. No birds. No wind. No footsteps. Just silence. Like the world was holding its breath.
He sat up slowly, his clothes torn and stained, but there was no pain. No blood. Not even a bruise.
That shouldn't be possible.
He remembered the impact. The cold burst of Vex's frost. The crack of his skull hitting stone. The taste of iron in his mouth as his vision went black.
He had died.
Hadn't he?
Then—whispers. Not from the outside, but deep, deep within his mind. A voice that was not his own, yet somehow familiar.
"The seal is broken."
"Blood remembers what flesh forgets."
"You have awakened, Scion of Null."
Cassian clutched his head as the words flooded him, brief flashes of something ancient tearing through his mind like lightning across a stormy sky—symbols, war, red skies, and rivers of blood turned to ash.
And then it stopped.
Silence returned. The world resumed its rhythm like nothing had happened.
Cassian stood, unsteady. The fountain was clean. No trace of blood. No sign of a fight. The stone where he had fallen bore no mark. It was as if the world had erased his death.
Or refused to acknowledge it.
The next day, the canteen buzzed with its usual noise—voices, footsteps, and clattering trays.
Until he walked in.
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Vex, Reina, and Kael sat stiffly at a table near the back. All three froze mid-bite, their faces paling as they saw him.
Cassian walked past them without a word, eyes forward, posture calm.
He sat alone. Same spot as always.
The whispers started—"Wasn't he...?""No, that's impossible.""He looks the same...""Is that blood on his collar?"
The bullies didn't speak. Didn't move. They hadn't told anyone what happened. They were terrified of what they'd done—and now even more terrified of what had returned.
Because nothing had been reported. No alert. No investigation.
Nobody.
Back in his room, Cassian stood in front of the mirror.
He expected to see himself. The same hollow boy everyone ignored. But the reflection was… wrong.
His features hadn't changed. No glowing eyes. No monstrous scars.
But his presence—it felt like staring into a black hole. His gaze seemed to devour the light around it. His eyes weren't red or glowing. Just... black. Still. Infinite.
A void that warned: don't look too deep.
He touched the mirror. Cold glass. Normal. Real.
But the reflection felt like a stranger wearing his skin.
He whispered his name aloud.
"Cassian Vale…"
The silence answered.
"…Wasn't I supposed to be dead?"
He didn't blink.
Neither did the reflection.