Raen stumbled out of the ash-veined chamber, his body trembling. The weight of the girl's voice still echoed inside him, though she was gone now. Not banished. Not slain. Just... retreated, as if she'd simply peeled herself back into the folds of memory and flame.
Ashveil limped behind him, hissing lowly, its once-glowing scales dulled, as though scorched from within by her touch. Keir followed silently, no longer muttering, no longer humming. Just staring.
The tunnels beyond bled with silence. It wasn't just the absence of noise—it was the presence of absence, a suffocating stillness, as though the realm itself was holding its breath.
They walked.
Time passed, or didn't. There was no sun, no pulse of the outside world. Just tunnels and faded names etched into walls—burnt into the bone of the earth.
Finally, Raen stopped. Something in the dark ahead shimmered. Not light. Not shadow.
"We're not alone," he murmured.
A shape waited—no, shifted. Not one figure. Two.
