Darkness fell like a blade.
The moment the fire vanished, it took the air with it—along with all warmth, all color, all sense. For a breathless second, Kai stood in a world undone, where even the echoes dared not speak. The only sound was the furious pounding of his heart, too loud in the silence. And before them, cloaked in red silk and veiled in shadows, the figure did not move. It didn't have to. Power radiated from it in waves—ancient, coiled, patient as a serpent in a burial pit. It was the kind of stillness that suggested movement would be a mercy. A storm not yet unshackled.
Kai could barely form a thought, let alone a question. "What is it?" he breathed, the words scraped raw from his throat.
Yara's voice was barely audible, a curse spat between clenched teeth. "That's not supposed to be here. It's not supposed to be awake."
Varaan took a single step forward, shoulders squared, claws bared. "I don't care what it's supposed to be. Say its name."
