Bonesplinter Ravine Concrete Halls

She hadn't expected this—this torrent of grief, raw and overwhelming in its perfect mirror of her own. Her jaw locked tight, but it did nothing to stop the creeping tendrils of dread winding their way through her chest, twisting in places she’d long thought numb.

The serum had done its job—too well. She had wanted answers, yes, but not this. Not this flood of sorrow that filled the space between them, drowning them both. She’d expected him to confess. Expected a vile villain's monologue where he owned up to the things he’d done, and set her doubts to rest. And she would finally get the closure she so desperately needed. She would say to herself, "How silly I was to worry! I was right all along." And she would feel oh so justified in her hatred—her loathing.

But instead, all she was left with was this—the broken, shattered remnants of the boy she once knew, laid bare before her. He was not the proud, terrible creature she had come to despise. No, he was something else entirely now—fragile, shattered, and far too mortal.

Herod... She breathed the name like a curse, like something vile on her tongue. She knew. She already knew. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her pulse loud in her ears. She hated him. Hated the sound of his name. Hated the way it tasted. But most of all, she hated the way she had let her grief cloud her vision—let it twist everything until she didn’t know which way was up.

Her throat clenched, but she pressed on, pressed on because she had no choice. The words came out strangled, desperate.

Was it him, Hasdrubal? Did Herod—?

Her voice cracked. Eira reached out, her paw trembling as it found Hasdrubal’s, cold and shaking beneath her touch. She held her breath.

Waiting.