The night had not yet died.
It breathed like a living creature, clutching the silence tightly within the forest's embrace. The wind slithered between the leaves—as though it had overheard someone's secret and now wished to whisper it to others. The earth was damp. Droplets of blood seeped into the soil, spreading a sharp, iron-like scent into the air.
The pink-hued spirit chain that had emerged from Zaber's palm slid through the darkness like an invisible serpent and buried itself into the chests of Garrik and Kael.
This was no blade that pierced flesh.
This was no blow that shattered bone.
This was judgment that tore the soul away.
Ordinary eyes could not see the chain. Only Zaber perceived it clearly: the glowing thread that pierced their chests, coiled around their hearts, and began searching for something deep inside.
First came the pain.
Then the cold.
Then an incomprehensible emptiness.
