Meanwhile, in the corridors of the Arcanum, Aveline doubled over as if something had struck her from within.

The warmth that had wrapped around her moments ago, the quiet, and steady presence she had clung to without question... vanished.

Just... gone...

It was as though a thread tied to her very soul had been severed in a single, brutal motion.

Her breath hitched sharply, her fingers tightening around the now lifeless token as a hollow ache spread through her chest. And as she looked at it, the token cracked in her hand.

"No!" she screamed, holding the token closer to her chest, as if it were a dying child.

The faint images that had flickered behind her eyes... those glimpses of Theron, of the figures surrounding him... all shattered into nothing. One moment, she had seen a shadowed figure raise a weapon toward him... and the next...

Nothing.

"I... can’t see..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "Theron, are you well?"

Panic surged, cold and suffocating. She did not know if he had been struck. She did not know if he was still standing. The connection that had allowed her to feel his strength, his pain, and his presence... was gone, leaving behind a silence so complete it felt wrong.

Empty.

But she was not given the mercy of drowning in that fear.

Because the moment the connection snapped... Reality came rushing back.

The corridor. The air. The danger.

Aveline slowly lifted her head.

And froze.

It was right there.

Closer than she had ever imagined it could be.

The creature loomed before her, its massive, shifting form pressing into existence as though the darkness itself had taken shape. What she had once seen as distant, creeping shadow was now fully realized—thick, viscous, and suffocating, like living tar given hunger and intent.

Its face hovered inches from hers.

Too close.

Far too close.

Its mouth stretched wider than anything natural, jagged sharp teeth glistening beneath strands of black, slimy residue that dripped in slow, sickening threads. The stench hit her a heartbeat later—a suffocating rot, like flesh long abandoned to decay, mixed with something older... something that did not belong to the world of the living.

Aveline gagged, her stomach churning violently as bile rose to her throat.

The air itself felt corrupted, heavy and damp, clinging to her skin like unseen hands.

And then... It growled, low and deep... A sound that did not simply reach her ears but vibrated through her bones, through her chest, through the fragile rhythm of her heartbeat. It was the kind of sound that spoke of something ancient and merciless, something that had crawled its way out from depths where light had never existed.

Something that should never have been allowed to exist.

The creature leaned closer.

Closer still.

As if savoring her fear. As if recognizing her.

"Not now..." Aveline whispered, her voice trembling as she forced her arm to lift.

She tried to recreate the instinctive weave she had managed back in the forest. Something sharp. Something precise. A net that could cut, bind, and sever. Her fingers twitched as she reached for that memory, for that strange, fleeting control she had once held.

But her arm refused to obey.

The creature moved first.

Its jaw snapped forward with terrifying speed, teeth slicing through the air where her hand had been a heartbeat ago. The sound alone was enough to freeze her blood. She knew, with absolute certainty, that if she had been a fraction slower, her arm would have been gone.

Her beautiful little hand... her usefull little hand... Gone.

Her breath caught. Her heart dropped.

She could not fight the creature. She could not run. And worst of all...

She did not know what had happened to Theron.

That thought struck her harder than the danger in front of her. Even now... even here, with death inches from her face... her mind reached for him.

That was what broke her. Not fear of her future and not even the creature with the sharp teeth, with the absolute intention of murdering her.

Him. Theron.

"What are you doing?"

The voice cut through the moment like a blade; that sharp, irritated voice.

Aveline’s head snapped to the side.

And there he was.

Him...

The Ermine man.

He descended from above as if gravity itself had little claim over him, dropping from the upper ledge with effortless precision. Half his silver hair had been tied back, the rest flowing freely, catching the air as he moved. His coat billowed behind him like a trailing shadow, yet everything about him was light—controlled, deliberate, almost unreal.

There was no panic in him.

No hesitation.

Only focus.

As he landed beside her, his entire body moved in a fluid sequence; hid shoulders, arms, wrists, and even the tilt of his head aligning as though he followed a discipline she could not yet understand. It was not like Theron’s sharp, contained gestures. This was something broader. Something that was practiced into his very bones.

His hands came together in a precise, cupping motion.

"Close your eyes," he said.

And for once, without argument and without question, Aveline obeyed.

Her eyes shut.

The world vanished.

And then...

There was a sharp and violent hiss... followed by a crack that split the air itself.

And then... there was a loud roar.

Not the roar of a human. Not anything that belonged in this world.

Aveline’s eyes flew open.

Light exploded across her vision.

Lightning.

Real lightning.

It surged from his hands in blinding arcs, not wild or chaotic, but controlled and guided... shaped into something purposeful. It struck the creature head-on, the impact sending waves of crackling energy crawling across its grotesque form.

The corridor filled with the scent of ozone, cutting through the rot.

The creature recoiled, its massive body shuddering as the lightning clung to it, sizzling across its surface, burning through that slick, shadowed mass. For the first time, it retreated; not defeated, but forced back.

And now they had a breathing space.

Aveline stared.

Her own hair stood on end from the residual charge, strands lifting wildly around her face, but she barely noticed. Her gaze was fixed entirely on him.

He stood there, framed in fading arcs of light, silver hair glowing faintly, his expression calm and distant, as though this was nothing remarkable.

Ethereal.

Like something that did not quite belong among mortals.

And when he looked at her, her heart skipped a beat. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

What a beautiful man!

"Stop staring," he snapped, not even looking at her. "And do something."