I didn't flinch. I should've, but I didn't.
Felix stiffened beside me, his grip on his staff tightening until his knuckles went white. The others were still, like statues—watching, waiting, but none of us dared to speak.
The voice—if you could call it that—lingered in the air, heavy and cold. It wasn't the kind of voice you expected. Not sharp or angry. It felt like an old, forgotten thing, reaching out after years of silence.
"Lucian," the voice repeated, smooth as silk. "Still pretending to be alive?"
I swallowed. The rune wasn't just a seal. It was a window, showing us what was left of whatever had been sealed away.
Cassandra's glow flickered as she stepped back, her face pale under the weight of whatever she was sensing. "It's... the soul isn't alone," she whispered. "It's scattered. Shattered."
"Shattered?" Mira asked, leaning in. "How can a soul shatter?"
I didn't have an answer, but the chill crawling up my spine was answer enough.
