Silence spreads through the Veins like relief.
Not perfect silence. Natural Drakaira hum returns—low, dangerous, alive.
But the wrong overtone is gone.
The parasite stopped beating.
I sag back, breath shaking.
“It’s—” I gasp. “It’s down.”
Cassian exhales hard, relief flashing across his face for half a second. “Good.”
Mira swears—half laugh, half sob. “You did it.”
But we don’t get to celebrate.
Because Ten chooses that exact moment to step fully into view.
I finally turn.
And my blood goes cold.
Ten is taller than Ren, broader, built like someone who was engineered out of war. His mask is pale mirror-glass instead of dark, etched with thin glyph lines that catch the fissure’s dying light. His eyes behind it—visible through the reflective sheen—are too calm.
Not excited like R
