Vincent/Vaelthor~
I strode toward the gym door, the echo of my footsteps sharp against the floor, each one carrying me further from Katrina's tear-streaked face. The air still hummed with the residue of our conversation, that fragile tension between her pleas and my calculated manipulations. My mind raced ahead, plotting the next move in this intricate game of revenge—until a voice pierced through my thoughts like a dagger in the dark.
"Vaelthor? Brother, please... answer me."
It was Sylthara, her mental voice trembling, laced with sobs that hit me like icy rain. I froze mid-step, my hand inches from the door handle. The mind link we shared, forged in the shadows of our demonic blood, vibrated with her pain. She sounded shattered, like glass cracking under unbearable pressure.
"Syl? What's wrong?" I replied through the link, my own voice steady but edged with concern. "You sound... broken. Where are you?"
