The silence after the orb settles is not relief, and it is not confusion either, it is something heavier, something like inevitability settling into stone.
Lucian shifts against the poisoned ropes, his breathing uneven but steadier now, and the faint sheen of sweat along his skin does not diminish the sharp clarity in his eyes as he studies me like a pattern finally making sense.
“You are asking the wrong question,” he says quietly.
Axel’s patience fractures instantly. “Then enlighten us.”
Lucian does not look at him.
He looks at me.
“You are not the anomaly,” he says. “You are the continuation.”
My chest tightens, but I refuse to step back.
“Speak plainly,” Atticus says coldly, though I can feel the tension vibrating through him like a live wire.
Lucian exhales slowly, and the ch
