"His soul is caught between the two… pulled somewhere it cannot decide whether to stay or return."
Luther scoffed sharply. "Only weak-willed beings die in confusion like that. Humans cling to life but tremble at death. It's pathetic."
Eleazar didn't even lift his eyes from Xavier. "Every soul dies," he said, voice steady, "whether it is today or centuries from now. Kings. Gods. Beasts. Vampires. Humans. You. Me. None of us outrun it." He paused, thumb brushing Xavier's jaw to check the tension. "And not one of them dies without fear. Not even your kind."
Luther's jaw clenched, but he didn't argue. He knew it was true.
Eleazar opened Xavier's eyelids gently, checking the response of the pupils—dilated, barely reacting. He pressed lightly against the side of Xavier's neck, then traced his fingers down to the sternum. He pressed on the navel and the ribs as though examining something far deeper than flesh, something beneath the bone and blood.
