"No," Valentina whispered.
The word was fragile, a splinter of glass breaking in the hollow of her throat. "No... that isn't possible."
"You're... you're Rex." Her mind scrambled, clawing at the memories of a boy who had stood before her in the courtyard, whose potential had burned brighter than any candle in the archives. "You're the student of this academy..."
"You're the one who saved the eastern gate from the rift... You're the one who—"
"I am all of those things, Valentina."
Rex cut her off. His voice wasn't the warm, respectful tone of the prodigy she remembered.
It was something colder, something ancient, a voice that had seen empires crumble and found the experience amusing.
He didn't flinch at her accusation; he didn't even blink. The boyish softness she had once seen in his eyes had been replaced by a terrifying, bottomless void.
"I am Tremor," he continued, each name dropping like a guillotine blade. "I am Lord Xerollion..."
