The room was dim, quiet.
Eclipse sat alone, silver mask still fixed to his face. The chair beneath him creaked faintly as he shifted, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped. Beneath the mask, his jaw was tight. He had been still too long—thinking too long. A tension curled in his chest like smoke in a sealed room, growing heavier with each breath. The silence didn't soothe him. It draped over his shoulders like a damp shroud. He hated waiting. Hated feeling caged. And yet, this was the only move he had left—for now. The sigils around its mouth glowed faintly, threads of green and blue weaving in slow pulses like a heartbeat. Outside, the tower groaned in its sleep, old stone shifting against older magic.
He spoke.
His voice left the room.
"Who are you?" came the whisper—not from the walls, but from the mask itself. The voice of a woman, fragile, guarded. A whisper meant to be lost in the dark. But Eclipse caught it all.
