Ethan's hand was steady as he reached for the grey thread. To the Patriarch and the guards, it looked like he was grasping at empty air. But to Ethan, he was touching the very essence of decay.
As his fingers made contact, a freezing chill raced up his arm. It wasn't just cold; it was the feeling of nothingness. The Law of Entropy within him, that tiny 0.1 percent, began to pulse like a hungry predator.
Ethan began to pull. Slowly. Carefully.
He wasn't just healing a girl; he was unravelling a tether. Every inch of the grey thread he pulled from Seraphina's chest was absorbed into his own palm. As the thread entered his body, his mind felt like it was being scraped by sandpaper. He saw visions of crumbling stars and dying galaxies.
"This is not a natural occurrence," Ethan thought, his brow furrowing. "This thread has a signature. It's calculated."
