PAEDYN NOVA
A game of half-truths!
“Who sent you?”
That was the first thing he said after walking into the cellar like some haunted god with shadows in his eyes.
He didn’t sit. Didn’t blink. Just stood there, staring at me like I was the only puzzle he couldn’t solve. The room was damp, cold, the scent of iron and mold curling through the air, but it was his voice that chilled my spine.
I shifted against the stone wall, the chains clinking with every tiny movement. My wrists were raw, but I smiled anyway.
“Why?” I asked.
He didn’t flinch.
“Why do you want to know who sent me?”
His jaw tightened. “Don’t play games with me, Paedyn.”
“I’m not.” I tilted my head. “I just like knowing why I’m being asked questions before I start answering them.”
He took one step closer. Slow. Heavy.
