LYRE
My magic curls out like tendrils, brushing against the walls of the chamber, tasting the carnage.
I'm too late.
The walls tremble. Dust sifts from the ceiling. My phone vibrates, one after another. Nonstop, and I already know what's happening.
Divinity Connect is lighting like a Christmas tree, sensing the shift in my control.
Blood. So much blood. Most of it dried to rusty brown, flaking from the walls in macabre patterns. But near the furthest wall—fresh crimson glistens in the dim light. Still wet. Still new.
I walk deeper into the chamber, my steps deliberate. My magic extends further, parsing through the residual energy, and I go very still.
This wasn't Isabeau.
Not entirely.
Jack-Eye steps up beside me, his face drained of color. "What the fuck happened here?" His voice shakes. He's furious, and barely controlling his panic. The scent of it is strong, and yet still almost buried beneath the gruesome stench of this place.
