But her words were deaf to his ears. Or maybe… he simply didn't hear them.
Either way, it didn't matter. She was ignored. Like she was air.
A low heat of frustration burned in Freya's chest. Her heart was pounding from everything she'd seen, everything they'd endured, but this? This constant disregard? It was infuriating.
So she stepped forward.
One foot after the other, cautious but determined, her boots scraping against the fractured earth. The distant crackle of magma provided the only backdrop. The once-living battlefield was now dead silent.
Her gaze remained fixed on him. His back turned to her. Rigid. Emotionless.
The moment she came within a few meters, he moved.
His head slowly turned toward her.
At first, she felt relief. A flutter of hope in her chest. Finally—finally—he was acknowledging her. He saw her.
She stepped closer, her lips curling into a tentative smile.
But then she saw his face.
And the blood drained from hers.
