The world had turned into a blurred, monochromatic smear. Lucius didn't hear Isabella's shrieks or the frantic shouting of the Minister's guards. His entire universe had shrunk to the weight of the woman in his arms and the terrifying, necrotic purple veins creeping up her pale skin.
He had seen this once before.
In his past life, during the bloodiest year of the Southern War, he had seen a battalion of his men turn into "Puppets." Their eyes had gone white, their voices like grinding stones and they had turned their blades on their own brothers. Back then, he had thought it was a rare tropical fever. Now, looking at the black smoke rising from Archie's remains, he realized he had been fighting a shadow he never truly understood.
Lucius burst through the doors of the mansion, his boots thundering against the marble. He didn't ask for directions; he sensed the way to Evelina's new suite.
