Kyle sat still, his gaze fixed on the humanoid puppet seated across the room. It had returned to its usual spot, knees tucked in, arms lifeless, like a marionette discarded by its puppeteer.
After leaning over him while he slept—an act that had nearly gotten it destroyed—the puppet now showed no sign of movement.
Just that eerie, unblinking stare whenever its gaze happened to meet Kyle's.
He studied it for several long minutes, waiting for something—anything—to change. A twitch, a flicker of mana, even a brief pulse of divine influence.
But there was nothing. The puppet had gone inert again, as if the spark animating it had simply vanished.
Kyle extended his senses, probing the air around it for divine energy. Still nothing. No trace of the will that had once controlled it.
He even dared to step closer, just enough to study the shell for signs of a trap or trigger. But all he got in return was silence. It was like trying to interrogate a stone.
