Chapter 17 · The Shadow's Whisper

"Get the hell away from him!"

I lunged. No plan, no weapon—just a memory-thief's instinct and a desperate need to stop the carnage.

Dax was slumped against the wall, chest heaving, eyes glazed. He looked like he’d just run a marathon through a nightmare. He had. But the real nightmare was currently peeling itself off the floor.

His shadow wasn't following him anymore. It was standing. Solid. And it was wrapping a jagged, ink-black hand around Dax’s throat.

"Mara... stop..." Dax choked out. A wrecked rasp. He tried to shove the thing, but his arms were shaking. The shadow didn't flinch. It just tightened, pulling him deeper into the void.

I slammed my palm against the shadow's wrist. I tried to trigger a memory rip—anything to destabilize the damn thing. The second my skin hit that oily darkness, a shockwave blasted through my spine.

Then I heard it. Not a scream. Not a growl.

*"Mara... help me..."\*

I froze. My heart skipped. That wasn't a monster. That was my mother's voice. Exactly as I remembered it from the last ten seconds of her life. But clearer.