Villain's Last Chance
Chapter 44: Edge of Control

Chapter 44: Edge of Control

The silence between us stretched like a blade, thin and sharp. Each step we took through the mountain pass felt heavier than the last, the weight of the Codex pressing against me like an unseen force.

Cairon walked beside me, his presence steady, but I could feel it—his eyes flicking to me every so often, watching. Measuring.

I clenched my fists. The sensation of power still tingled at my fingertips, an echo of what had happened in the clearing. Back there, when the shadows had curled at my feet, when the Codex had pulsed in my grasp like it was finally acknowledging me, something had changed.

For the first time since waking in this body, I had felt... in control.

And I had liked it.

That thought unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.

Because it wasn’t just satisfaction. It was something more. Something darker.

The power, the rush of it, had felt intoxicating. It had whispered to me, coaxing me, telling me I could take what I wanted. That I didn’t need to hesitate, to fear, to question.

For a moment, I had felt unstoppable.

And Cairon had noticed.

"You’re thinking too much," he said suddenly, voice cutting through the night air.

I let out a humorless laugh. "Is that a crime now?"

His jaw tightened. "It’s a risk."

I stopped walking. "A risk to who?"

Cairon turned fully to me then, his dark eyes locked onto mine. The wind howled between us, carrying the scent of frost and stone, but neither of us moved.

"You know who," he said.

A chill ran down my spine.

Because he wasn’t just talking about me losing control. He was talking about the past.

About him.

I swallowed hard. "I’m not him."

Cairon didn’t look away. "Not yet."

The weight of his words settled between us, thick and suffocating.

Anger sparked in my chest, not because he doubted me—but because a small part of me wondered if he was right.

I exhaled sharply, shoving the feeling aside. "We should keep moving. Or do you want to stand here all night trading warnings?"

Cairon hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. "Let’s go."

We walked in silence again, but this time, it wasn’t just tension that hung between us.

It was fear.

Not of each other.

But of what I was becoming.

The path narrowed as we moved deeper into the mountains. Shadows stretched long across the rocky terrain, and the air grew colder with each step.

Then, I felt it.

A pulse.

The Codex, strapped securely to my side, shuddered against me.

I inhaled sharply, stopping in my tracks.

Cairon noticed immediately. "What is it?"

I pressed a hand against the book, my fingers tingling. "It’s... reacting to something."

A heartbeat later, a low hum filled the air.

Cairon was already moving, drawing his blade in one fluid motion. "Stay close."

As if I had a choice.

The ground beneath us trembled, faint but undeniable. And then, just beyond the bend in the path—

A figure emerged.

No, not just one.

Dozens.

Clad in dark robes, their faces obscured, they moved with eerie precision, their movements synchronized like a single entity. The same kind of figures from before.

Cairon muttered a curse under his breath. "More of them."

I tightened my grip on the Codex, feeling its energy hum against my palm. The last time, I had hesitated.

This time—

I wouldn’t.

The figures moved in unison, gliding across the rocky ground like phantoms. There was no warning, no negotiation. The first strike came like lightning—a force slamming toward us, aimed straight at my chest.

Cairon moved faster than thought. His blade intercepted the attack, sparks of magic flashing where steel met unseen energy. He pushed forward, cutting down the first robed figure with a swift, brutal efficiency.

I didn’t hesitate.

The shadows at my feet surged.

They obeyed me now.

I lifted my hand, and darkness answered.

A wave of pure force erupted from my palm, striking two of the figures and sending them hurtling backward. They crumpled like puppets with their strings cut. The power rushed through me, electric and intoxicating.

More of them came.

Cairon fought beside me, his movements precise, deadly. His sword sliced through the enemies like they were nothing more than mist, but there were too many.

A second attack came—a shimmering, twisting force aimed for him.

I reacted before I could think.

The shadows lunged from my fingertips, intercepting the strike before it could hit him. The air shuddered from the impact, the force dispersing into tendrils of black mist.

Cairon barely glanced at me before driving his blade through another enemy. "Don’t lose control."

But I wasn’t sure if I could.

Because with every attack I stopped, every enemy I crushed beneath my magic, the hunger inside me grew.

I wanted more.

The last figure hesitated before me, sensing the shift. My heart pounded.

I lifted my hand.

The shadows surged, curling like living things.

The figure twitched, as if realizing—too late—what I was.

What I could do.

I could end them. All of them.

One word. One thought. And they would fall.

I felt the power coil in my chest, waiting. Wanting.

And then—

A hand gripped my wrist.

Not the enemy’s.

Cairon’s.

His fingers tightened, grounding, stopping me. His eyes burned into mine, dark and unreadable. "Enough."

The word hit me like a blow.

The shadows shuddered—then stilled.

I exhaled, the power retreating like an ebbing tide. The last enemy collapsed, motionless.

Silence.

The battle was over.

But inside me, the war had only just begun.

-------

The night was still.

Too still.

The bodies of the robed figures lay motionless on the ground, their dark cloaks blending into the rocky terrain. The battle had ended, yet the tension in my chest only grew. My breath came in slow, measured pulls, but my pulse hammered, the remnants of power still burning in my veins.

Cairon hadn’t let go of my wrist.

His grip was firm, steady, an anchor to something I couldn’t quite define. His dark eyes remained locked onto mine, searching for something—perhaps a sign that I was still myself.

I tore my wrist from his grasp. "Don’t touch me."

The words came out harsher than I intended, but I didn’t regret them.

Cairon didn’t flinch. "You were about to lose control."

I laughed—sharp, bitter. "And what if I did?" I gestured to the bodies around us. "They deserved it."

His jaw tightened. "That’s not the point."

"Then what is?" I took a step forward, barely aware that the shadows at my feet moved with me. "You act like I’m some fragile thread, seconds from snapping, but guess what, Cairon? This world isn’t kind to fragility."

His gaze didn’t waver. "Power without restraint is just another kind of weakness."

The words struck something deep within me, something raw and unspoken.

Because I knew what he meant. I had seen what happened to those who let power consume them.

And yet—

I hadn’t felt weak back there.

I had felt alive.

I exhaled sharply, pushing past him. "We need to move."

For a moment, I thought he would stop me again. But he only nodded, sheathing his blade before falling into step beside me.

The mountain path twisted and narrowed, the cold air biting against my skin. I kept my hands curled into fists, trying to ignore the way my magic still hummed beneath my skin, like a living thing unwilling to be caged again.

The silence stretched between us, thick with everything we weren’t saying.

Then, finally, Cairon broke it.

"You remind me of him."

I stopped walking.

The words hit harder than any blow.

Slowly, I turned to face him. "Don’t."

Cairon didn’t look away. "I know you don’t want to hear it."

"You’re right. I don’t."

But he wasn’t finished. "He was powerful too. Too powerful. And he thought that meant he could do whatever he wanted."

I clenched my teeth. "I am not him."

"Then prove it."

The challenge in his voice made something sharp coil in my chest.

I hated how easily he could pull these emotions from me—this frustration, this anger, this fear.

Because despite everything, despite how much I wanted to deny it, a part of me wondered—

If Cairon had seen this before.

If he had lived this before.

If he had killed because of this before.

I inhaled through my nose, forcing my emotions down. "I don’t owe you proof of anything."

Cairon studied me for a long moment. Then, finally, he looked away. "Let’s keep moving."

We walked on, but the words lingered.

I reminded him of the man he had once killed.

The man whose body I now inhabited.

And I didn’t know if that terrified me more... or if I was starting to understand why.

----

Hours passed.

The moon had risen high above us by the time we reached the edge of a plateau. Below, carved into the mountainside, stood what we had been searching for.

The first ruins.

Stone pillars jutted from the earth, half-buried by time, their surfaces worn smooth by wind and snow. The remnants of a forgotten temple stretched into the darkness, its broken arches silhouetted against the sky.

And at the center of it all—

A door.

Massive, ancient, untouched by time.

My breath caught. The markings etched into the stone were familiar, painfully so.

I had seen these symbols before.

In the Codex.

The book at my hip pulsed in recognition, its power stirring like a sleeping beast waking from slumber.

Cairon came to stand beside me. "This is it."

I barely heard him.

Because something was wrong.

The air around the ruins was thick, humming with energy. And not just any energy—

Magic.

Old, ancient magic.

I took a step forward, and the ground trembled beneath my feet.

Cairon grabbed my arm. "Wait—"

But it was too late.

The symbols on the door began to glow, pulsing with a light that was both beautiful and terrifying. A low hum filled the air, growing louder, vibrating through my bones.

And then—

The door opened.

A rush of cold air swept out, carrying whispers that curled around my skin like phantom fingers.

Whispers in a language I should not have been able to understand.

But I did.

Welcome back.

The words sent ice through my veins.

Because for the first time, I wasn’t sure if they were speaking to me—

Or the man I used to be.

Something Wakes

The world shifted.

One moment, I was standing before the ruins. The next, I was somewhere else.

A vision. A memory.

But not mine.

The temple was whole, bathed in moonlight. Hooded figures moved through its halls, their voices murmuring in reverence. A figure stood at the center of it all, dressed in black and gold, power radiating from his very skin.

I knew that face.

Because it was mine.

Or rather—

His.

The past villain.

He turned, his gaze sweeping the gathered figures with an expression of quiet satisfaction. Power clung to him like a second skin.

A voice echoed through the memory—his voice.

"The Codex chooses who is worthy."

He lifted the book in his hands, the same book that now rested against my hip.

"And today, it chooses me."

The memory shattered.

I gasped, my knees buckling as reality came rushing back. The ruins. The door. Cairon’s hand gripping my shoulder, shaking me.

"Elara."

His voice cut through the haze. I looked up, my breaths unsteady.

But the worst part wasn’t the vision.

It was the realization that the whispers had never stopped.

They were still speaking.

Still welcoming me back.

And I didn’t know if I had the strength to resist them.