Chapter 17 · Drowning in the Deep

"Get out of my head." Silas's voice slammed through the dark and caught Ella by the throat.

She tried to answer. Nothing came out. No mouth. No lungs. No hands to shove him away.

Only pressure.

His mind closed around her like a fist.

"You heard me," he said. "Stop digging."

"Then stop hiding things."

Her voice came back as a thin crack inside the black. Silas heard it. That was new. Last time, he had only sensed her as a twitch in his mana, a wrong note under his thoughts.

Now he could hear every word.

The dark split open.

Ella dropped into a chamber made of red light and broken memories. Stone steps spiraled beneath her feet, though she had no feet. Black water rose around her ankles. Faces flashed under the surface—soldiers, nobles, dead hunters, people who had looked at Silas and never looked away again.

Silas stood at the bottom of the steps.

He wore the tyrant's face. Sharp jaw. Cold eyes. A black coat hanging perfectly from his shoulders. His fingers were clean, even though the water around him carried streaks of red.

"You picked a terrible place to snoop," he said.

"I wasn't snooping.