The wind changed—not in temperature or force, but in timbre. The very air began to hum with an inaudible pressure, like the low frequency of a storm rolling across reality itself.
Stygian's eyes snapped open.
Even Onyx stopped fidgeting with Saareiya.
Maverick lifted his head as the sigils surrounding Ethan pulsed once more. The deep grey-blue symbol representing the drake flared, and then—without warning—everything fell silent.
Not quiet—silent.
No breath. No heartbeat. No sound at all.
Saareiya gasped, but her voice made no noise. Her lips moved in panic, but even the sound of her own thoughts seemed dulled.
And then, like a string plucked in a cathedral, a single tone echoed through the void.
It wasn't heard. It was felt—in the bones, in the soul.
A line of crackling pressure drew itself into the air like a tear being unzipped, and from it stepped a figure who seemed both primal and noble. A presence neither fierce nor overwhelming, yet impossible to ignore.
Sage.
