He looked older than I remembered—more lines around his eyes, deeper grooves beside his mouth. His hair was grayer, but those sharp features were exactly the same.
Eyes pale and cold.
He wore a suit jacket, stained at the cuffs. His tie was loose, hanging off his neck.
He stared at me like he was seeing a ghost.
And for a second…so was I.
He wasn't supposed to be here.
He couldn't be.
"What do you want?" I asked, voice shaking.
I didn't step forward. I didn't trust it.
Not him. Not this place.
Not what this place made you see.
But he just stood there.
Not smiling. Not cruel. Just… staring.
Like he'd been walking through the dark just as long as I had.
My throat felt tight as I stared at him.
"What do you want?" I demanded again.
I didn't care if it was real or fake.
If the Aetherions had put him here or summoned a hallucination from my trauma.
If this was my trial, then I wanted to know what the hell they wanted from me.
From him.
