Isolde watched me for a long moment, her fingers tapping idly against the armrest of her chair. Then, without a single flicker of visible mana, her voice slipped directly into my mind.
'You needn't concern yourself with your body being reclaimed by its original soul. It's yours now.'
I tensed instinctively. Not because of what she'd said—but because of how she said it. The connection was seamless, effortless. Even Luna had to push her voice into my thoughts. Isolde had simply been there, like a shadow slipping into place behind me.
Out loud, she sighed and leaned back against the chair, a perfectly casual gesture meant to be seen by Alastor, who was no doubt still monitoring from outside.
"You remind me of someone," she mused, her tone light, reflective. "It's unnerving, really."
A distraction. A smokescreen.
