Tick. Tick...Silence.
The sound didn't just fade. It vanished.
In the sudden vacuum of noise, the silence was a physical weight, pressing against Seraphina's eardrums until they throbbed.
She stood frozen. Her back was pressed against the cold door, her fingers white-knuckled as they clawed at the handle.
Escape. She just needed to escape.
Her lungs burned. Every breath was a jagged shard of glass, cutting through her chest in short, frantic gasps. Tears tracked hot lines through the powder on her cheeks, blurring a world that felt like it was already ending.
Then…Click.
The sound didn't come from the door she was trying to force open. It came from behind her.
From the desk.
"It's over."
Damon's voice was a calm breeze in the middle of a graveyard. It was too steady. Too dry.
Seraphina didn't move. She couldn't. Her nervous system was a frayed wire, sparking with the remnants of a terror she couldn't yet let go of.
"...What?"
The word was a pathetic, broken thing.
