Selene dragged herself back to her room, footsteps uneven.
Her hands trembled at her sides. Her breath hitched in shallow bursts she couldn't quite control.
Every inch of her body ached—not from injury, but exhaustion. The kind that dug deep into her bones and stayed there.
She closed the door behind her and stumbled toward the edge of the bed. Her knees gave out, and she sank down, elbows resting on her thighs as she buried her face in her hands.
The voice returned.
[You could've ended that so much faster.]
She said nothing.
[You're wasting time. You refuse my help, but you want to survive. Why pretend like your pride matters?]
"Shut up," she whispered, pressing her palms harder against her forehead.
"Just... shut up."
The voice went quiet.
For a moment.
Then silence truly followed.
Too much silence.
Selene lowered her hands slowly, blinking into the dim room. Something felt off.
he air had shifted—thickened. Pressing in on her from all directions.
