The wind blew softly over the great river, carrying with it the scent of fresh water and something deeper, something ancient that Uriel still hadn't fully understood.
The sailboat glided along the current with a calm that contrasted violently with the nightmare days left behind. The sky, tinged with oranges and purples at dawn, promised a tranquil day.
Uriel sat up completely on the boat's deck, his movements slow, almost lazy, as if his body were still remembering how to function after six days of unconsciousness. He blinked several times, adjusting to the sunlight filtering through the enchanted sails, and then made a decision.
His dark form began to fade.
It was a gradual, almost organic process, as if the shadow enveloping him retreated layer by layer, revealing what had always been underneath. The darkness receded inward, condensing somewhere deep within his being, and in its place emerged a human body.
Fair skin, almost pale, like someone who had spent too long without direct sunlight. Slender but muscular arms, broad shoulders supporting a head crowned by long black hair falling to his shoulders. Uriel raised a hand and brushed the hair from his face, revealing sharp, almost aristocratic features, with a defined jaw and high cheekbones. His eyes, when they fully opened, were black as the deepest night, with no pupils to distinguish them — two pits of darkness in the middle of that human face.
He fumbled for a piece of black fabric stored in his dark storage, a simple ribbon he used to tie his hair into a low, careless ponytail. The gesture was mechanical, familiar, as if his human body remembered movements his consciousness had nearly forgotten.
His attire materialized on his skin with a whisper of shadows. A simple tunic, dark gray bordering on black, made from fabrics that looked normal but were impregnated with essence. No adornments, no jewelry, no symbols. Simple and functional, like everything Uriel preferred.
Shade watched him throughout the process with his white eyes, a crooked smile forming on his face where there were no features. Then, he imitated his twin.
The darkness enveloping him faded in the same way, retreating to reveal a human form almost identical to Uriel's. The same fair skin, the same long black hair, the same sharp features and defined jaw. Even the dark gray tunic was the same, as if both had been cut from the same piece of cloth.
But there was one difference.
Shade's eyes were red as blood. An intense, deep red that seemed to glow with an inner light when sunlight reached them. There was no warmth in that gaze, but an almost predatory intensity — the look of someone who has seen too much and has learned not to flinch.
Uriel looked at him for a long moment, examining that face that was his but not quite. Then, finally, he spoke.
"How is it possible that you can interact with the physical world?" His voice, in his human form, was softer than in his dark form, but retained that calm tone. "Before, you couldn't do it freely, at least not entirely."
Shade shrugged, a gesture so human it was almost ironic coming from a being like him. His red eyes narrowed slightly as he thought about the answer.
"I don't have the slightest idea," he admitted finally, without giving it much importance. "I slept for three months, and when I woke up, this is what there was. I suppose something changed while I was out. Something in you. Something in us." He paused, his fingers brushing the boat's wood as if marveling at being able to feel its texture. "But now I can touch the physical. I can move away from you. I can, in a way, be independent."
Uriel frowned. "In a way?"
Shade nodded, his expression becoming more serious for an instant. "There's a disadvantage." He raised a hand, closing his fist and opening it several times. "When we're divided — when you're you and I'm me — each of us possesses half the original power. We're weaker separated than we would be together."
Uriel's frown deepened. That was no minor disadvantage. In a world where abominations lurked in every shadow and dangers arose without warning, having half his power meant being much closer to death.
But in the end, he sighed and let his shoulders drop. There was no point worrying about something he couldn't change.
From his dark storage, Uriel took out several plates of food. Nothing extravagant: cooked meat, freshly baked bread, fruits he had stored during his journey, and a jug of fresh water. He placed the plates on the sailboat's deck, between him and Shade, and they both began to eat.
They ate in silence at first, focused on filling their stomachs after days without solid food. The sound of water against the hull and the creaking of wood were the only music accompanying that frugal meal. Uriel bit into his bread slowly, savoring each bite as if it were the first in a long time. Shade, for his part, ate more quickly, his red eyes constantly moving, scanning the horizon even as he chewed.
When they finished, they simply remained silent.
The sailboat moved at a constant speed downstream, carried by the current and the enchantments Shade had activated during Uriel's absence. The deck was spacious enough for both to sit comfortably, their backs against the mast, their feet hanging over the edge.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It was the silence of two beings who knew each other so well they didn't need words to be together. The silence of two twins of darkness who had shared thoughts, dreams, and nightmares for so long that the boundaries between them had become blurred.
Sometimes they chatted.
Shade recounted the battles of the six days Uriel had been unconscious, his words tinged with that characteristic irony that turned even the most terrifying moments into almost amusing anecdotes. He spoke of the Great Titan and how they had to flee with their tails between their legs. He spoke of the hundred-eyed Sperm Whale and how the Great Tyrant's Echo had torn it apart like a broken toy. He spoke of the endless waves of abominations, of the minions who died and were replaced, of sleepless nights and endless days.
Uriel listened in silence, nodding occasionally, asking details here and there. He didn't say "I'm sorry" because he knew Shade didn't want to hear that. He didn't say "thank you" because between them, thanks were implied.
Other times, they practiced dark sorcery.
Uriel extended his hand over the deck, and shadows danced between his fingers, taking forms that dissolved before completing themselves. Shade imitated his movements, his red hands creating patterns of dark threads that sometimes managed to hold their shape for a few seconds longer than Uriel's. They weren't competing — or at least not openly. They were simply practicing, honing their technique, preparing for the next memory creation Uriel had in mind.
The supreme fragments they had obtained from the great tyrant — seven in total, each one meter in diameter — floated in his dark storage, waiting for the right moment to be used. Uriel was sure of what he wanted to do with those fragments of supreme souls. He would create a memory — but not just any memory. A memory he would use for a long time. And to create it, he needed to refine his dark sorcery further.
The process continued for several days.
Uriel and Shade used that time to rest, to recover from the old wounds that the battle against the tyrant and the six days of infernal travel had left on their bodies and minds. It wasn't complete rest — because the great river never allowed complete rest — but it was prolonged enough for their essences to stabilize and their wills to strengthen.
They slept in shifts, one watching while the other closed his eyes. They ate when hungry, drinking river water that Uriel purified with a simple gesture. They talked about the past and the future, about Skadi and the great tyrant, about the divine entity that inhabited Uriel's sea of souls and what that might mean.
They found no answers.
Finally, at dusk on the seventh day, Uriel decided it was time to act.
The sun was setting on the horizon, staining the sky with red and gold tones that reflected on the river's surface like an ocean of liquid fire. The shadows lengthened, and with them, the twins' power intensified.
Uriel summoned the seven supreme fragments.
They emerged from his dark storage, floating in the air before him, each one meter in diameter, each glowing with a bluish light that seemed to pulse like a heart. Shade stood, his red eyes fixed on the fragments with an almost hungry intensity.
"Do you know what you have to do, right?"
"Don't worry, this will be the most ambitious thing we're going to create," said Shade as he disappeared into darkness, returning to the interior of Uriel.
Uriel closed his eyes and delved into his sea of souls.