The shadow's whispers began to weave distorted melodies into Oriel's ear. Its lips were pressed against her, its voice flowing broken and frail: "I'm scared… he's going to kill me… I'm… so scared."
Then—everything flipped.
It spun her around violently, gripping her chin with a cruel force, forcing her head up. "You'll do it, won't you?" it hissed. Oriel's gaze was a blur of pity and longing, as if she were looking at a lost child trapped inside a monster.
As for Raith—he stared at her, his eyes wide, his hands trembling uncontrollably. Nova watched him in silent dread, sensing that everything could collapse at any moment.
A heavy silence fell. A fleeting, lopsided smile brushed Raith's lips, vanished as quickly as it appeared—like a slip of the soul. He murmured in a fractured voice, "This… this is madness."
The dancing stopped. The music died abruptly, as if the hall had lost its pulse. The guests stared only at him; they saw nothing of what he saw, heard nothing of what he heard.
In that moment, Nova tried to restrain time itself. She grabbed his arm, pulling him toward her with force. She cupped his cheeks in her hands, whispering with a suffocating firmness: "Here… there is no room for error. No matter what you see… keep it buried."
Raith looked at her in shock, but her voice didn't reach him. Another voice had already slipped into his consciousness—a cold, cutting whisper: "You won't be able to."
"What?" Raith stammered.
He turned toward Oriel. Her lips were moving slowly, as if she were speaking—but no sound came out.
Suddenly—the shadow vanished from behind her. It reappeared directly in front of him. Its grin was wide, inhuman, and poisoned with insanity.
"Kill her… kill your sister. Give me your pain."