Kyle didn't waste a second. As soon as the puppet collapsed, he rushed past it and dropped to his knees beside Silvy's bed.
"Silvy?"
He called softly, but there was no response.
His voice sharpened.
"Silvy!"
Still nothing. Her chest didn't rise, her body didn't stir—there was no breath, no twitch, not even the faintest sign of life.
Kyle pressed two fingers to her throat, searching for a pulse. His mana flared as he dove into her core, seeking the gentle warmth of her essence, her soul, her mana. But—
There was nothing.
Her vessel was empty.
Completely.
"No."
Kyle breathed. He pushed more mana in, trying to ignite something—anything. He focused on every fragment of her he remembered, every spark of power she'd ever shown. But there was only silence.
There was no external force lingering, no curse, no magical toxin. No trace of harm left behind.
Which meant…
