I need to get out of here.
I turn sharply, not waiting for anyone to say anything else. No one tries to stop me as I storm toward the exit, though I can feel their eyes on my back, heavy with things they want to say but know better than to voice right now.
The corridors blur together as I move, each step fueled by too many emotions, all of them threatening to consume me.
Rage.
Betrayal.
A grief so heavy and unexpected it nearly brings me to my knees.
I don't stop walking until I find myself somewhere unfamiliar. Which is pretty much everywhere here.
The air shifts. The oppressive weight of the sanctuary eases, and for the first time since entering this cursed place, I can breathe.
I glance around, my heartbeat slowing as I take in the space.
A garden.
Not like the rest of the sanctuary, which is bathed in shadows and cracked with signs of corruption. This place is untouched.
Flowers bloom in rich shades of violet and deep blue, their petals shifting faintly in the soft breeze. Tall trees stretch overhead, their leaves rustling in a way that feels almost like a whisper. A small pool of water sits in the center, so clear it looks like glass.
This place is… wrong.
Not in the way the sanctuary is wrong, not like the twisting shadows and corrupted magic.
It's wrong because it shouldn't exist.
The land outside is rotting, infected with whatever sickness is spreading through this realm. And yet, here, the air is clean, the earth is whole. Nothing should be this untouched.
I exhale shakily and step forward, my fingers brushing over the petals of a nearby flower.
"I wish Seren were here," I murmur, the words barely more than a breath.
The wind stirs, the magic in the air shifting.
But it's not Seren who answers.
"It seems you and I had the same thought."
I turn sharply, shadows flaring around me before I even register who's standing at the edge of the garden.
Revna.
She watches me with an expression I can't quite read, her silver-streaked hair catching the soft glow of the garden's magic. She's not wearing her Guardian armor, but she doesn't need it. There's something about her presence that feels just as commanding without it.
She tilts her head slightly, studying me. "I was hoping we could talk."
I narrow my eyes. "If this is about Kieran, I don't want to hear it."
Her lips twitch slightly, not quite a smile. "It is. And you do."
I cross my arms, biting down my instinct to snap at her. I don't want another lecture on duty or fate or any of the other excuses Kieran is bound to throw at me later.
Revna steps forward, but she doesn't get too close. "I've known Kieran for centuries," she says, her voice even, steady. "I've known him as a warrior. As a leader. As a friend."
I don't answer.
