A game…?
Riley's voice echoed lowly, like thunder buried beneath still water.
His head tilted slightly, eyes—if they could be called that anymore—glimmering faintly under the shifting light.
In this eyeless form, expression meant little, yet the air around him trembled, heavy with emotion he no longer knew how to show.
Each beat of the frosted heart in Erebil's hand tore through him like a blade.
That faint rhythm—it wasn't just sound.
It was memory.
It was warmth, laughter, the sound of her voice, the one who had changed everything for him.
He didn't need to ask who it belonged to.
He already knew.
Snow.
His Snow.
The first light he had reached for in this cursed world.
The reason he'd even taken the first step down the path that led him here.
And now, that very heart was pulsing—weakly, faintly—inside the grasp of a goddess who treated lives like toys.
He could feel the pull in his chest—the clash of emotion and reason.
