Chapter 11 · Whispers of the Void

"Don't you dare let go," Lyra gasped, her fingers digging into Cane's forearm. Her skin was ice, but where they touched, a sickening heat was starting to pulse.

Cane slammed her back against the rusted bulkhead of the submerged outpost. The metal groaned under the pressure of the abyss, a rhythmic, crushing sound that matched the frantic beat of her heart. He didn't let go. He couldn't. The black veins were already crawling up her neck, spider-webbing toward her jawline like ink dropped in clear water.

"Shut up and breathe," Cane snapped, his voice grating. "I'm not letting you dissolve into the void just because you can't hold a seal."

"It's too much," she choked out, her eyes shimmering with a terrifying, iridescent light. "I can feel them. The things in the dark... they're not just watching, Cane. They're calling me home."

Cane gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. He could smell the salt and something metallic—like old blood and ozone. The power imbalance was stark; he was the only thing keeping her anchored to the physical world, and she was the only key to the legacy he’d been stripped of.