The sea cave was a cathedral of jagged stone and ancient silence, tucked away beneath the cliffs where the ocean's roar was muffled into a low, rhythmic thrum. It was the same place Darien had brought Amara to show her a glimpse of his world, but today, the beauty of the shimmering cavern had been replaced by a heavy, suffocating atmosphere of dread. The air didn't smell like the sea; it smelled like ozone, sulfur, and the metallic tang of impending blood.
Theron stood near the entrance, his boots crunching on the loose shale. His silhouette was sharp against the darkening sky outside, but his posture was far from his usual cocky, untouchable self. He looked tired, no, he looked sick. His eyes were fixed on Darien, who stood in the center of the cavern, his shadow stretching long and distorted across the damp walls.
