Azriel froze, his body plunging into a deeper chill, a biting cold so intense it seared through him. The world narrowed down until all he could perceive was Pollux standing before him, still wearing his sister's face.
"W-what… what did you just say?"
Out of nowhere, a knife appeared in Pollux's hand—a small pocketknife.
"T-that…!"
Azriel's single eye widened in shock. It was the same pocketknife Pierre had used to gouge out his eye—the same one he'd found hidden alongside the cryptic clue about Pollux's identity.
"The real pocketknife—the one actually used on you—is still lying exactly where you first collapsed unconscious in this forest. But this..." Pollux said with a faint smirk, "…is something entirely different. Something hidden in plain sight."
Pollux waved his hand gently over the small blade. Azriel blinked, and in the next instant, a different object rested in Pollux's open palm.
