"Run," Evangeline said, her voice cutting through their paralysis like a blade. "Whatever happens, whatever you see, don't look back. Don't try to help me. Just run."
But as they turned toward the door, they found their path blocked by a figure that shouldn't exist—couldn't exist. It was tall, impossibly thin, with features that shifted and blurred like smoke given form.
Only its eyes remained constant, burning with the same malevolent light as the symbol on the photograph. The air around it rippled with heat distortion, as if reality itself was struggling to accommodate its presence.
Marcus went rigid beside her, his entire body coiling with the tension of a predator suddenly face-to-face with something far more dangerous than himself. "Vex'thul," he breathed, and the name tasted like ash and old blood on the air.
