Aaron breathed a long, shuddering sigh of relief, the tension finally draining from his weary muscles.
He had done the impossible: Chen Mo was dead, and the suffocating weight of their rivalry had finally lifted.
For the first time in an eternity, he felt the cool spark of freedom.
But the silence of his victory was short-lived.
Behind him, the air groaned and tore open as a jagged rift stabilized in the center of the void.
"Congratulations on defeating Chen Mo," a voice smooth as silk and cold as a grave settled over Aaron's ears.
"And, of course, on receiving the Mark of Cain."
Aaron spun around, the name of his benefactor-turned-tormentor rising to his lips.
"A—"
He stopped.
His throat constricted, and his tongue felt like lead.
He stared at Aegon, but something was fundamentally different.
The man standing before him felt less like a person and more like a hole in the universe.
No matter how hard Aaron pushed, he found it physically impossible to complete the name.
