The silence after he left felt wrong.
Not empty. Not calm.
Watched.
Aren stood in the middle of the broken room, his breathing slowly steadying as the last traces of darkness faded from his hand. The power had receded—but not disappeared.
It lingered.
That pull.
That hunger.
Waiting.
"…you almost lost it," Iris said.
Her voice was steady. Not accusing. Not comforting.
Aren didn't argue.
"…I know."
She stepped closer, her eyes fixed on him.
"…no," she said quietly.
"…you don't."
A pause.
"…that wasn't control slipping," she continued.
"…that was you getting pulled under."
Aren's fingers tightened slightly.
"…and if that happens again?" he asked.
Iris didn't hesitate.
"…you won't come back."
The words settled heavily between them.
Aren looked at his hand again. The mark was still. Silent. As if it had done nothing at all.
"…then I need to fix it," he said.
Iris watched him for a moment, then nodded.
"…good."
She turned and moved toward a clearer space in the room, kicking aside debris.
"…because if you don't," she added,
"…you'll die next time."
Aren stepped forward.
"…so what do I do?"
Iris faced him.
"…you learn how to fight."
Aren frowned slightly.
"…I already can."
She shook her head.
"…no," she said.
"…you survive."
A pause.
"…that's not the same thing."
Before he could respond, she moved.
Fast.
Her strike came without warning.
Aren reacted just in time, raising his arm to block. The impact pushed him back.
"…too slow," she said.
She attacked again.
Aren stepped aside, trying to counter—
She avoided it effortlessly.
"…predictable."
Another strike followed. Then another.
No pause. No rhythm he could rely on.
Aren blocked one, missed the next—
Impact.
He stumbled back slightly.
"…stop thinking like before," Iris said, circling him.
"…your body changed."
"…your reactions changed."
"…but your mind didn't."
Aren steadied himself.
"…then what do I do?"
She moved again.
Faster.
This time, Aren didn't block.
He shifted.
Not away—
Around.
Her strike cut through empty space.
She stopped for a fraction of a second.
"…good."
Then she attacked again, harder.
Aren moved again, letting the motion pass instead of resisting it.
The difference was immediate.
"…don't fight strength with strength," she said.
"…you'll lose every time."
Aren's focus sharpened.
He watched more closely now. Not just her attacks—but how they began.
The next strike came.
He slipped past it.
Countered.
This time—
She blocked.
Their arms collided with a sharp sound.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then—
She smirked slightly.
"…better."
They stepped back.
Aren exhaled slowly.
"…this won't be enough," he said.
Iris nodded.
"…I know."
A pause.
"…so we deal with the real problem."
Aren's gaze shifted.
"…the mark."
She nodded.
"…use it."
Aren hesitated.
"…here?"
"…controlled," she replied.
"…or as close as you can get."
Aren looked at his hand.
The mark pulsed faintly.
Waiting.
"…fine."
He stepped forward, closing his eyes for a moment.
Then—
He focused.
The feeling came instantly.
Darkness.
Not around him.
Inside him.
It moved slowly at first—
Then faster.
His fingers twitched.
The mark began to glow faintly.
"…stop it from spreading," Iris said.
"…don't let it take over."
Aren slowed his breathing.
Focused not on the power—
But on holding it back.
Containing it.
Darkness flickered around his hand. Thin. Unstable.
But it didn't spread.
"…good," Iris said quietly.
"…again."
Aren tightened his control.
The darkness sharpened slightly. More defined. Less chaotic.
But the strain hit immediately.
His jaw tightened.
"…it's pulling," he muttered.
"…of course it is," Iris replied.
"…it's not yours."
Aren's eyes opened.
"…what?"
She met his gaze.
"…you didn't create that power," she said.
"…you're just holding it."
Silence.
The words sank in.
"…then how do I make it mine?" Aren asked.
Iris didn't look away.
"…you don't."
A pause.
"…you survive it."
The darkness flickered harder.
Aren clenched his fist—
And forced it down.
Slowly—
It faded.
Silence returned.
His breathing was heavier now.
"…again," Iris said.
Aren looked at her.
"…seriously?"
She didn't react.
"…again."
A brief pause.
Then—
Aren let out a quiet breath.
"…fine."
He raised his hand again.
Because now—
He understood.
This wasn't about mastering power.
It was about not being destroyed by it.
High above the city, the man in white stood watching.
"…he's stabilizing faster than expected," he murmured.
A second figure appeared behind him.
"…should we proceed?"
The man's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…not yet."
A pause.
"…let him struggle a little more."
Silence.
"…it'll make breaking him easier."
Back inside—
Aren focused again.
The mark pulsed.
Darkness formed.
And this time—
It didn't surge wildly.
It stayed.
Just a little longer.
Just a little closer to control.