Lucen landed in a crouch. Hand snapped up.
[Shockweave Bolt – Fired]
The tracking dart hissed through the air, light-blue, sparking.
The creature reached up.
And caught it.
Barehanded.
Lucen stared.
Then his spell shattered in its grip like it had never been cast.
A pause.
Then the thing said, softly, inside his mind:
"You don't belong here, Sovereign."
Lucen's blood went cold.
Not because of the word.
Because it wasn't guessing.
It knew.
—
Lucen didn't move.
His fingers flexed slightly, but no sigil formed. Not yet. Not while the thing stood motionless three meters away, the air between them quiet as a broken seal.
The mask didn't change. Still blank. Still bone-pale with that single black slit where the eye should've been. Nothing inside it.
Just dark.
He swallowed once.
Then spoke. Calm. Even.
"Say that again."
The thing didn't.
Just tilted its head half an inch. Not confused. Not curious. Just like it was replaying some memory it didn't need to share.
