The words hung in the frozen air, their weight transcending mere sound.
Twenty-seven thousand demons processed the prophecy, each one drawing their own conclusions, making their own connections to the half-transformed Soul Warden standing over their former master.
Jack's expression shifted slightly, confusion cutting through bloodlust for the first time since his transformation. "What does that…"
"This individual," Pho interrupted, as more blue blood poured from his mouth, "resides in a different dimension. Here in the tower but not. A space between spaces. He showed it to me once. Made of shadows and the things that live there would make you shit yourself."
His breathing became more labored, each word harder than the last. "His name... his name is The A…"
Pho's words cut off instantly.
Not because he stopped talking.
Because his throat seized, muscles locking, his air passage closing despite no visible obstruction.
