A Background Character’s Path to Power

The light sphere convulsed in my grasp like a dying star giving birth to a new one. One hemisphere burned with an eye-searing whiteness that cast jagged shadows across my trembling arms, while the other swallowed all light into its fathomless black maw.

They warred at the edges where they met - the white advancing like dawn creeping across the tundra, the darkness recoiling like a scorched beast.

As the white consumed more of the sphere, the excruciating pain wracking my body began to recede, replaced by a surge of overwhelming emotions: a clawing eagerness to exist, a deep sense of freedom, a burgeoning hope, and a wave of pure, unadulterated relief.

I was in no state to form coherent thoughts, my mind still reeling from the psychic assault, yet somehow, I knew.

They are fighting!

The original consciousness was winning - its light devouring the corruption pulse by pulse.

CRACKLE—!

The void itself lashed back. Jagged sounds split the abyss, the pain renewing, needles of agony stabbing into my mind, willing my fingers to unclench.

Yet I held on.

I clutched the light ball tightly, refusing to let go.

After a few excruciating moments, thin, spiderweb-like white cracks began to appear across the otherwise impenetrable blackness of the void.

The light ball, now a pulsating beacon the size of a massive bear, thrummed with overwhelming energy.

Then—

WHITE.

A soundless explosion tore through the darkness. I flinched, throwing up an arm, but nothing happened.

No pain or heat.

Slowly, I lowered my forearm, eyes blinking against the residual afterglow.

And there, standing before me in the radiant expanse, was a figure of white, its hand clenched around the throat of a thrashing shadow. The dark form twisted, half its face already eroded, tendrils of blackness dissipating like smoke in the wind.

The struggle was brief.

With one last painful and yet relieved shriek, the shadow figure dissolved completely, absorbed into the blinding purity of the light.

It stood tall, majestic, its form composed entirely of swirling white energy that flowed like ethereal robes, its stature roughly a head taller than my own.

Where a head should be, a vortex of shimmering, ice-blue light pulsed softly, with smaller, intricate patterns, like drifting snowflakes, appearing and vanishing within its luminous body.

It had no discernible face, no eyes or mouth, nothing to indicate human features.

And yet, as it faced me, I felt it, as clearly as if it had spoken aloud: a gentle, enchanting smile. A smile of immense gratitude, and perhaps, a hint of sorrow for all that had been lost.

"Hmm?"

I watched in quiet confusion as the figure of light floated towards me. It emitted no sound, yet its approach filled the space with an almost tangible sense of peace. I didn't move, sensing no malice.

It stopped directly before me, then slowly bent forward, its luminous head-vortex descending.

A cold yet oddly comfortable sensation ran through my entire phantom body as the shimmering, ice-blue light of its "forehead" touched mine.

It was as if two distinct currents merged, the connection deepening between us. It felt as though our very souls were intertwining, connecting on a level far beyond anything I'd experienced.

Wait... Could it be?

"You-!" I stared, disbelief warring with wonder. My mind reeled, but I didn't resist the strange, intimate bond forming between us.

"Are you... sure?" I asked, my voice a mere whisper in the boundless white.

The figure, still pressed forehead-to-forehead with me, slowly, gracefully, nodded its head.

"Alright, then," I smiled back. "Then I promise to cherish our bond and treat you as an equal."

With that vow, I closed my eyes, allowing the strange, comforting cold to wash over me, finalizing the bonding process, surrendering to this profound, new connection.

After a few moments, I opened my eyes again.

My vision, that barely accustomed to the previous atmosphere, struggled to adjust. The blinding light had vanished, replaced by muted, greyish illumination.

The all-encompassing silence was gone, too, replaced by the faint howl of wind and the snow. As my eyes focused, I realized I was no longer in the boundless consciousness of the... Rime Weaver. Yeah, this sounds alright.

More importantly, I was back. Back in the swirling blizzard, back in the familiar confines of the Keep.

Wait...

My brow furrowed. The ground was nowhere to be found. My feet dangled in empty air, and I was, unmistakably, hovering.

Dumbfounded for a moment, I tried to make sense of the sudden weightlessness.

{My... friend,} a soft, clear voice resonated directly in my mind, gentle yet resolute. {We have yet to finish the fight. The monster 'I' created is still alive.}

I nodded as understanding crystallized. The reason I floated became clear - the Rime Weaver's power now pulsed through my very being. What surprised me wasn't just that it could speak, but how its words sliced through my daze, sharpening my focus on the danger at hand.

The strongest creation of the Lament Shroud was still out there.

"Please, take me there," I stated, my own thoughts now a seamless part of our shared mental space.

"But... let's stop somewhere else first."

I didn't know how much time had passed in the real world. Minutes? Hours? Or even days?

A cold dread seeped in. I desperately hoped the others were still alright.

{As you wish, my friend}. The Rime Weaver replied, a comforting presence within my mind.

As if in response to the thought, the ethereal winter robes I had just witnessed the Rime Weaver embody now seamlessly extended from my own body, shimmering into existence. Wings of pure, crystalline ice unfolded gracefully from my back.

Then, with a mere thought, a shared impulse, we shot through the blizzard, the wind howling around me but no longer biting.

The snow parted as if I were a phantom, the frozen air merely a current guiding my impossible speed.

The raw power coursing through me was intoxicating, unlike anything I'd ever felt. Yet, the Rime Weaver's presence in my mind made it clear this was a fleeting surge, a power on borrowed time, directly tied to the nascent strength of our bond.

Every moment counted.

We had to utilize this brief apex of strength to its absolute maximum, taking decisive action before it began to ebb away.

Father... Zephyr... everyone...

Please, hold on a little longer.