The wind drifted across the terrace once more, its edge turning contemplative, shedding the biting frost of the Noctharian winter for a stillness that felt far more ancient.
For a long, hollow moment, the voice withdrew into the shadows of her mind. Then, it returned, sliding through her thoughts like a fingertip trailing across fine glass.
"How interesting."
Ilaria's breath hitched, the sound vanishing into the vastness of the night.
"You were trembling a moment ago," the whisper observed lazily. It was a layered sound like a thousand voices buried beneath a single, silken thread."Your fingers… they have not stopped shaking since the lantern died."
Instinctively, her hand tightened over her wrist, her pulse thrumming against the glove as if trying to leap out. The wind shifted, brushing along the silk of her sleeve with a phantom-like curiosity.
