Heiko’s lips parted, and his eyes widened as his hand lifted shakily to his chest, to his ribs, to his temple — places where he had always felt an invisible pressure, the constant thrumming of darkness buried beneath his skin.
But there was nothing there.
No shadow.
No coil of rage.
No whisper of madness.
Just… stillness.
Warmth.
Lightness.
“River…” he breathed, and for the first time in his life, his voice did not tremble with the hidden strain of holding a monster inside. “I… I don’t feel it. The weight. The darkness. The pull.”
His voice cracked. “It’s gone. River, it’s actually… gone.”
And then the shock hit him in full force.
His chest rose sharply as a choked sound escaped him — halfway between a laugh and a sob, raw and disbelieving. His hand flew to his mouth as his eyes
