The silence had weight.
Not the awkward kind, nor the peaceful kind.
It was ancient. Watchful. Like the hush before an avalanche—the moment before some long-forgotten truth remembered how to breathe.
Raven stood still, golden eyes narrowed as the voice—no, the entity—hovered just beyond reach.
The cave's crystals hummed faintly, shadows rippling along the jagged ceiling like ink in water.
Then, at last, she spoke.
"I suppose you've earned the right to know more about me."
The voice didn't come from one direction. It folded over itself like silk, both distant and intimately near.
"I was a goddess once," she said, soft and steady, as if reciting a line too familiar to carry emotion. "So long ago, I can't even recall the weight of my own name."
Raven's brow twitched.
"…A goddess."
"Yes."
"Right."
He didn't hide his skepticism. "Next, you'll tell me you're also the Queen of Dreams and the Duchess of Wishful Thinking."
The voice laughed.
Not mocking.
Just… tired.
