Kael tilted his head. His expression didn't change, but something in his voice turned cold.
"Get up," he said again. "I'm not done with you."
Victor stirred.
He lifted his head. Slow. Unsteady.
Blood slipped from the corner of his mouth and ran down his chin in a thin line. It dripped off without a sound.
His face twisted—not just with rage, but frustration. His eyes burned, but his arms refused to follow.
His body was too weak to match what he felt.
Then—out of nowhere—he raised his hand. Something started burning in his palm.
A heart started to form. It was pitch black. Alive. Flickering with black flame.
It pulsed steadily, each throb wrapped in quiet flame. The fire licked at his skin, but he didn't react.
Didn't flinch.
He gave Kael one more look while breathing hard. Uneven. Like he didn't want to do this, but had to—if he wanted to survive.
"Kid, you're going to regret this," he said.
Kael didn't respond.
"You talk too much. Do it," he snapped.
