I didn't expect silence to be so heavy.
The walk out of the crypt should've felt like freedom—like stepping out of a coffin—but instead it felt like wading through ash. Every step reminded me of what I'd just done.
I could still feel them.
The ancestors.
They didn't scream anymore. That was the worst part.
They watched.
Lucian waited at the edge of the collapsed chamber, arms folded. His platinum hair looked almost silver in the torchlight, face unreadable as always.
"You didn't die," he said. "Congratulations."
I opened my mouth to respond but nearly choked on air. My throat still tasted like rust and smoke.
"Water," I rasped.
Wallace shoved a canteen into my hands before Lucian could even blink.
"You were in there for over an hour," Wallace said. "Your mana flared so hard the crypt nearly collapsed. Also, you smell like old books and bad decisions."
"Thanks," I croaked, taking a long swig.
