[Don't go. This feast—it's too clean. Too coordinated. It's a trap.]
Nyx's voice whispered through Nova's mind, low and sharp like a dagger in the dark.
Nova stood by the mirror, adjusting the collar of the unfamiliar formal robes they'd laid out for him. White silk, gold trim, imperial insignia stitched over the shoulder. A lion choking a snake.
He didn't reply at first. Just ran a hand through his hair, eyes fixed on the distorted reflection staring back at him. His face didn't look tired. But something behind his eyes had frayed.
[Nova?]
"I'm going. I want to see what they'll try."
He said.
[Curiosity's going to get you killed one day.]
Nova smirked.
"Probably. But not today."
[You're certain of that?]
"No. But let's not pretend things don't tend to turn out my way."
He turned from the mirror.
Nyx sighed—a soft, ghostlike exhale.
[You're impossible.]
"Relax. Just prepare for a new potential companion. We might have company soon."
He said.
