There was no light.
No ground.
No breath.
Only a vast, weightless silence.
Quinn floated—suspended in darkness so deep it seemed to swallow even thought. The world had faded behind him: the blood, the weeping, the broken circle. His body lay cold on the forest floor, but here… here, only his will existed.
Rowan.
He whispered the name into the void, but there was no echo. No response. Just a stillness that felt like waiting.
Where are you, baby? Please. Let me find you.
Suddenly, a flicker.
Far ahead—a shimmer, like moonlight through mist.
Quinn moved toward it. Or maybe he simply willed himself forward, the rules of this place strange and fluid. Shapes began to form. Not real, but familiar. Trees without bark. A sky that rippled like water. Ghostly silver threads weaving through
