The entirety of Corven's vision was blurred. The air itself seemed thick, almost suffocating, filled with an overwhelming flood of words—symbols and characters swirling in every direction. None of them made immediate sense. Unknown, ancient, and unreadable to the average mind.
But understanding unknown languages was Corven's strong point.
It came as naturally to him as breathing.
He forced his eyes open—those crimson irises now carrying a glowing gold streak through the middle. A sharp glint. Something had changed.
Something fundamental.
A presence pulsed from his gaze now—dense, undeniable. The kind of pressure that made air feel heavier.
[The Archivist Reads]
The vampire who had betrayed his own kind stood completely still, just a few feet away. He didn't flinch. Didn't speak.
He waited.
