The silver light screamed.
Not shattered not yet but strained, stretched so thin it felt like the world itself might tear along its seams. The boundary bled luminous fractures, each pulse of light followed by a seep of darkness that did not belong.
Elara’s scream echoed inside the seal as the Hunger forced itself deeper into the bond, twisting what had once been connection into conduit.
Draven wrapped his arms around her inside the boundary’s inner expanse, shielding her with his body as shadows clawed at them from every direction.
“Focus on me,” he ordered through gritted teeth. “Not it. Me.”
She clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as pain tore through her chest. “It’s in my head,” she gasped. “It knows things.”
“Let it see me,” he growled. “Not you.”
The Hunger’s voice
