Emilia's POV
Crimson clouds swirled above thick vapor congealing into living shapes. The earth quaked with a silent heat as if an age-old and restless force had awakened just beneath the skin.
And Vickson,
Vickson stood at the center of it all.
Or at least, what was left of him.
His body was a shattered silhouette, strands of darkness curled around him like shackles. The expression once etched on his face by resolve now lay twisted—his skin fissured, as though some force sought to break free from within.
No.
I staggered to my feet and my heart was hammering.
"Vickson!" The wind howled so fiercely that my voice was barely a whisper "I know you're in there! You have to fight this!"
His head snapped up.
For the briefest moment, a flicker crossed his burned eyes. Recognition. Pain.
Then the shadows swallowed him whole.
A laugh echoed from behind me.
Not Vickson's.
I turned and there he was.
The silver-eyed man.
