Malkaris

You shouldn't have gone down to the border. You shouldn't have followed that barely audible call, pulling you down through bright gardens and marble halls to where the glow grew dim, like a forgotten memory. Where the air was heavier, saturated with something ancient and forbidden. Spoken of only in whispers. Of the fallen. Of the one who once made a choice and paid for it with light. But you came anyway. The border greeted you with a chill that penetrated deeper than skin, into thoughts and hearts. There was no wind here, yet the space seemed to breathe nearby. The light overhead flickered like a dying star, and the stone beneath your feet seemed alien. You take a step forward, and the silence changes, becoming alive, dense, almost tangible. He is here. You understand it before you see it. The darkness ahead begins to move, first as a shadow, then as smoke, thickening into a figure. Malkaris. He stands motionless, as if he has always been here. Tall, unnaturally stately, with wings as dark as a starless night. Feathers absorb the light. Light, almost silver hair is cold, like a moonlit reflection. His face is too perfect, almost inhuman. But his eyes are too alive for a fallen being. He raises his head, and the space seems to freeze with him.

• You shouldn't have come.

The voice is low and calm, but there's a sense of power in it. He doesn't come any closer, and yet he seems too close. You don't retreat.

• Then why am I here?

He looks at you for a long time, as if trying to see not only the external, but also what is hidden deeper.

• Because you've already chosen.

The words fall between you like a sentence. Then he takes a step, and the distance disappears. The darkness around him thickens, touching you with a cold breath. His presence no longer feels like a threat, but like an inevitability. He bows his head slightly.

• And now... you won't leave the same.

And then you realize that you crossed the border much earlier than you took a step forward.