Footsteps, soft. Barely audible.
And then, directly in his ear, something whispered—
"Why are you here, child of glyph?"
Lucen stood in one motion.
Spell slot 4. Ready.
No words.
Just reaction.
—
The voice didn't echo. It didn't even really sound like sound.
It was just… in.
Inside the space between breath and thought. No weight. No heat.
Lucen didn't flinch.
He blinked once. Shifted his left foot a fraction to better angle his stance. His pulse hadn't spiked. Not yet.
The system didn't flash red, but his gut did.
He didn't turn.
Didn't risk giving it more than it already had.
Instead, he kept his voice low. Even.
"You ask that like you already know the answer."
Silence.
For a second, he thought maybe it had vanished.
Then the voice returned. Still close. Still wrong.
"I smell your glyphs. Newborn. Curious. Loud."
Lucen's eye twitched.
'So this thing can smell magic. Great. Even better if it talks in haiku.'
