Chapter 689 - The Elven Demon (3)

Mist webbed across the chamber like breath caught between teeth, rising in thin veils that clung to roots and ceiling alike. The thing that once called itself Vaerentis loomed at the far end, tall and fundamentally wrong. Flesh had abandoned him; in its place, a lattice of twisted bark and fused memory-skin shifted with every breath, dragging half-formed faces through the open air. Some flickered between expressions like broken marionettes—Clara's shy smile melting into Roth's crooked grin, then snapping into Vaelarien's sharp-eyed scowl. Each mask stayed for only a heartbeat before sliding away as though exhausted by its own existence.