In The Divide, the way it tugged at me, called to me.
She’s…
I realise it now, too late. I’m always too late.
When the rune had finalised, when she collapsed to the ground, caught between life and death, her shattered pieces reached out for ours and she…
She tied herself—to us.
We…
She’s ours.
We…
We bonded.
It’s there… a flicker, an ember… but now it’s smothered.
Buried beneath something ancient… The rune.
The runeIordered.
Idid this.
I created this hollow, agonising, never-ending ache we all feel.
It’s all because of me.
And now, it’s too late.
No.
I’ve already pulled too hard.
No… NO!
The compulsion gripping her lungs snaps, and with it—
“Ezekial.”
Her voice.
Not spoken aloud, but… inside me. Inside my head. Through our bond.
But it’s too late.
I realise it all.
Too.
Late.
No, no, no…
I’ve erased it all.
Come back to me.
