***BLAKE***
“How dare he leave.”
The words left before I could stop them—low, raw, spilling out unstoppable.
I sat on the table, the relic heavy in my hand. The Mover hummed faintly—like a living thing. Its pulse matched the heat rising in my chest. I stared down at it, tracing the runes with my thumb. Each line felt like a promise—a promise that conquers all.
My breath tightened. Anger coiling sharp, sudden. I wanted to shout—tear something apart—but the sound refused to come out from my throat.
“Who the f**k does he think he is?” I muttered.
I hit the table hard. The wood groaned, the candle shuddered—then, darkness swallowed the room quick, complete.
I didn’t stay in the dark. I struck a match. The light blinked alive—warm, steady. I watched the flame as if it held answers.
A la
