The silver veins in the darkness get thicker. Brighter. Like roots growing through stone.
And I realize: they’re not fading.
They’retaking hold.
I press a hand to my chest, trying to ease the ache where the pull digs in.
“If you’re Ethos bait,” I mutter, “this is a really elaborate setup.”
But I don’t feel his presence.
That’s what’s unnerving.
He should be here. Should be circling, watching, waiting to strike.
But there’s nothing.
Just the pull. Just the light. Just the voices whispering through the dark.
Either he hasn’t noticed—
Or he wants me to find them.
Either way, I’m already caught.
“Might as well see it through,” I say to the empty black. “Hard to lose when the bar’s this low.”
The pull jerks again, so hard I nearly collapse.
I stumble forward, gasping, and the darkness shifts.
Thins.
That’s the only word for it.
Like I’ve walked into a pocket where the Void is less dense. Less absolute.
The air changes. Warmer. Almost breathable.
And I hear it.
A voice.
A woman’s voice.
Not a whisper this time.
Clear. Close.Real.
One word.
“Stop.”
I freeze, breath caught in my throat.
It’s her.
It has to be.
