The darkness had always been Chantelle's domain. It bowed to her, served her. It was the element of her birth, her reign, her legacy.
But not anymore.
Nicole stood within the rift where souls collided—half a world of shadow, half blazing light. Her body was trembling, bloodied and bruised from the soul-battle, her hair floating in both silver fire and black mist. Across from her, Chantelle panted, wounded, her cloak of void trembling around her form.
"You can't contain me," Chantelle whispered through gritted teeth. "You'll be consumed."
Nicole's gaze did not falter. "Then I'll consume you first."
With a scream born of centuries of pain, Nicole reached out—not with her hands, but with her soul. Her body ignited with spiraling lights of day and night, harmony and chaos. The moment her power touched Chantelle's chest, something ancient screamed between their hearts.
The darkness surged forward, eager to drown Nicole.
But instead of resisting, she opened herself to it.
