The darkness inside the temple was not silent, It breathed.
A low whisper curled through the air like water sliding across stone—slow, ancient, alive.
Alessia's pulse hammered in her ears.
She clutched Luca's sleeve, feeling his muscles tense beneath her fingers, every part of him coiled and ready to strike.
Something moved—no footsteps, no shape—just a shift of the darkness itself...
A presence drifting closer.
"Stay behind me," Luca whispered, voice low, raw, dangerous.
But before Alessia could respond, a single candle flickered back to life.
Then another, then another.
The shadows retreated just enough for the seer to step forward.
Her expression was unreadable, but her voice carried the weight of centuries.
"The river marked you once," she said slowly, "and it marks you again. When timelines touch… echoes return."
Alessia's throat tightened.
"I… drowned?"
The seer's eyes softened.
"You did not dream the river, Alessia."
