With a slow, deliberate motion, he lifted his hand. Flames flickered to life in his palm, forming a spectral hand of fire that reached forward and grasped the vial.
Then, without hesitation, he tilted it.
A single drop of the dark water spilled toward the ground—toward the shadow.
And that was when it moved.
For the first time, not out of malice. Not out of mockery.
But out of fear.
Edward watched in fascination as his shadow recoiled, retreating from the falling droplet before it could make contact. Even after the liquid had splashed onto the floor, the shadow refused to return to its proper place.
Edward leaned back in his chair, a slow smirk forming on his lips.
For years, the shadow had held power over him. It had whispered in his ear, guided his actions, shaped the course of his kingdom.
But now?
Now he had something it feared.
And in his gleaming eyes, hidden beneath his composed expression, was a single thought:
