The words echoed.
Not in the room—but in his head.
Merlin didn't flinch. Didn't move.
But his pulse had already begun to change.
'She means it.'
She wasn't lying.
She didn't even sound proud of it.
Just… stating a fact.
Like the sky was red. Like the floor was steel. Like she was a wound stitched into the shape of a girl.
Merlin kept his stance loose. Keryx at his side. The tip hovered an inch above the floor.
Subject 0 sat quietly, watching him with those hollow sockets full of silver light.
The throne beneath her pulsed in time with her presence. Not mana—wronger than mana. Something buried and poisoned.
He tried to speak. "If you're not with the thing that sent the scout, then—"
"I'm not with anything," she cut in.
Sharp.
Simple.
A truth that weighed more than it sounded.
He hesitated. "But you knew it was coming."
"I heard it." Her voice softened slightly. "They're never quiet when they're close."
Merlin frowned.
"So there's more?"
She smiled faintly.
