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Chapter 51: The Weight of Returning
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Chapter 53: False Light
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... f moments, stretched thin between breaths that never fully formed. Lucian existed—not as a man, not as a weapon, not even as a memory—but as drift. Thought without tether. Shape without center.
He floated in static.
Grey fog coiled around him, breathing slow and hollow, as if the air itself mourned. Light flickered like an old film reel: too fast, too bright, then gone. Somewhere far above—or maybe below—a heartbeat thudded like thunder under glass. It wasn't his.
Nothing ...
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