The room was too silent after the breaking.
The quiet was not peace. It was the oppressive, windless quiet that followed catastrophe, as though the world itself had paused to see if it would keep breathing.
The dust of the shard still whirled around Kaito, glowing dimly before vanishing from view. His palm burned and bled freely, dark rivulets tracing down his wrist, dripping one by one onto the cracked stone.
Each drop sank instantly into the floor, devoured as though the chamber refused to let even blood remain unclaimed.
Nyra stayed close, her arm locked around his shoulders, refusing to let him collapse. She pressed her forehead against his, her breath ragged. "You're here," she whispered. "You're still you."
Kaito nodded feebly. He wanted it to be true. He wanted to make those words sink in and take hold. For the length of a single heartbeat, it almost did.
Then the shiver began.
