At first, Lorenzo thought he imagined it.
That whisper, low, cold, but shaped exactly like his own voice.
But the way Aria froze told him she'd heard it too.
"Lorenzo," she whispered, eyes wide, "say something."
"I…" His voice faltered. His throat felt raw. "It's me."
But it wasn't.
There was a slight echo behind his words, like something else was speaking through him, almost matching him syllable for syllable.
The mark on his chest pulsed faintly, gold fading into black veins that crawled toward his collarbone.
Elias stepped closer, hand on his weapon. "It's not done."
Lorenzo pressed a hand to his heart, gasping as heat burned through him. "It's… still there."
Aria grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. "Fight it. You're stronger than this thing."
He laughed weakly. "Maybe. But it's learning my voice."
The light in the chamber began to flicker. The cracked stones trembled, dust falling from the ceiling.
