Ere sat comfortably above it all, coiled in her own shadow, untouched by the pressure ravaging the hall below. To anyone else she looked relaxed—tail twitching, eyes half-lidded—but inside, her mind was locked on a memory that hadn't aged a day.
That day. That one fucked-up morning at the Blackwood estate when Parker returned from the abyss—tired, beaten, glowing faintly with a power even he didn't understand yet. He was just trying to exist again. And Robert?
Robert had tried to erase him.
Not scare. Not silence. Kill.
With her affinity to shadow and space, Ere hadn't just sensed it—she'd felt it like a blade being drawn inches from her neck. Robert's killing intent wasn't born of fear. It was clean. Calculated. Cold. He didn't hesitate. He didn't flinch. He moved like he'd rehearsed murdering Parker a thousand times and had finally found the stage.
Ere didn't know why then. It didn't matter.
But now?
