Moriana's deep, steady breathing was the only sound in the room.
Zarius took a single step back. His knees nearly buckled beneath him. A bead of sweat slid from his temple, tracing his jawline before striking the wooden floor with a soft tick.
Come on… just do it.
She is fast asleep. Exhausted. Defenseless.
The muscles in his forearms coiled tight.
Maybe… maybe something other than strangling.
His gaze shifted to the spare pillow resting beside her head.
That's right. A pillow would be cleaner.
I won't have to hear anything.
I just need to endure… a few seconds of struggle.
He reached out. His fingers hovered inches above the fabric, stiff and trembling.
But then, his hand dropped.
His face twisted, a map of silent agony. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the image of her sleeping face, but it burned behind his eyelids.
Goddamn it... she looks so innocent.
I just can't.
Maybe tomorrow.
Yes… tomorrow is fine. I have time.
Even if this is my eleventh attempt… it's fine.
Suddenly, his heart slammed against his ribs—war drums pounding a violent rhythm in his chest. Heat rushed into his face, burning away the hesitation.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Did I forget who I am? Did I forget how many innocent lives I've already ended?
A burning tear caught at the corner of his eye. His lips stretched into a crooked, broken mask—half madness, half grief.
His eyes snapped open, wide and locked on her throat with predatory focus.
Enough bullshit!
I'll do it with my bare fucking hands!
He made his move.
But for a split second, the air in the room froze.
Just as Zarius's fingers were about to close around Moriana's neck, a whisper slid out of the nothingness—cold, sharp, and dangerously close to his ear.
"You won't die…"
He heard it.
A cold jolt shot through his spine, locking his joints instantly. His hands froze in mid-air, fingers hovering just inches above the pillow. The predatory tension in his muscles vanished, replaced by a sharp, icy numbness. His breath hitched in his throat
"W...ho?"
His head snapped to the right, then over his shoulder. His eyes darted frantically into the dark corners of the room.
Nothing.
The room was silent. The shadows were empty.
But somewhere else…
Deep inside the void of the Echo Chamber, Morgana lay motionless. She looked drained, her energy spent, eyes shut tight against the darkness. Yet, a crooked, arrogant smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"You don't get to die," she murmured, her voice carrying an ancient weight. "You don't get the easy way out."
Back in the room,
Zarius swallowed hard. The sound was like a gunshot in the silence.
He turned slowly back to Moriana.
She hadn't moved. She was still fast asleep, mouth slightly open, a thin line of drool slipping onto her cheek—completely peaceful, terrifyingly unaware of how close she had just come to the end.
Then, the clouds outside shifted.
The thin strands of moonlight that had been piercing the room suddenly expanded. A wash of pale, cold light flooded through the window, sweeping over Zarius's face and body.
It didn't feel like light. It felt like an interrogation lamp. It stripped away the shadows that hid him, leaving him exposed, standing over her bed with his hands still trembling.
A thin filament of Exim uncoiled from beneath her collarbone, striking the back of his hand like a viper.
The sting made him gasp and jerk back. He froze, horror flooding his veins. His left hand—once unmarked—was erupting.
White blotches spread in seconds, racing over his knuckles like fire. The skin withered, aging ten years in a single heartbeat.
What… the hell?
He stumbled backward, eyes locked on his trembling fingers.
"Are you kidding me?!" he rasped, his voice hoarse with panic.
The heavy thud of his boots against the floorboards broke the silence. On the bed, Moriana shifted. The sheets rustled as she turned her head, a soft, annoyed groan escaping her lips, disturbed by the sudden noise.
When Zarius finally lifted his head, his eyes widened, the horror deepened. The wall behind Moriana was crumbling like stale bread.
The wood grain peeled apart layer by layer. The window frame turned a chalky, dead brown. The glass powdered into glittering dust, and the night air whistled in—cold, carrying the smell of wet rust.
The biting frost hit Moriana's face. She let out a soft groan, rubbing her right eye and swiping a trace of drool from her mouth with the back of her hand.
She blinked twice, her vision clearing enough to catch Zarius in the doorway—frozen, pale, his lower lip drawn tight.
"Zarius…?" Her voice was thick with sleep.
She squinted at him, noticing the way his body was locked in tension.
"Is… something wrong?"