The air was thick with silence, but Rhea could hear it — faint whispers curling through the shadows, calling her name like a ghost's breath on her neck.
Isaac's book lay open on the table, ancient symbols glowing faintly in the dim light. "This ritual... it's dangerous. If it fails, it could trap both of you."
Rhea's heart thundered. "I don't have a choice."
She lit the candles, tracing the circle on the floor with trembling hands. The shadows around her writhed like living things, curling closer, hungry.
A cold voice echoed from the darkness — not hers, but hers, twisted and cruel.
"You think you can fight me?" it sneered. "I am the part of you you refuse to see. Without me, you're nothing."
The candles flickered violently. Rhea's vision blurred as the shadows surged forward — swallowing the room in blackness.
Then, silence.
And a single whisper, chilling and close:
"You're already mine."