He lowered his gaze, hands still clenched, the edges of his fingernails digging hard into the curve of his palm. The crystal at his wrist pulsed once more—quick, sharp. Almost like it was flinching.
Faye knelt a few paces from the edge, her knees sinking into the smooth, shifting surface of the liminal platform. The material wasn't quite stone, but it didn't yield like sand either—something in between, soft enough to absorb weight, firm enough to hold the pain. Her bird-like Ikona hovered behind her shoulder, its wings trembling mid-hover. The melody that normally chimed like wind through glass faltered now, hanging in the air like a note that didn't know where to land.
