The light lingered long after the eye had vanished, searing the void in fractured brilliance. It pulsed across the broken plain like an afterimage burned into the skin of reality. Cracks glowed in the ground, spilling thin threads of radiance before closing with a hiss, leaving silence heavy as stone.
Min-joon's ears rang, his body trembling from holding Lin upright through the storm. For a moment, he thought the silence meant peace, that the ancient presence had retreated and left them behind. But the silence was not relief—it was hollow, fragile, and wrong.
Lin sagged fully against him, unconscious once more, his chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm. Min-joon brushed damp hair from his forehead, whispering desperately. "Stay with me. Please, Lin. Stay."
