Chapter 8 · When did this happen?

He shifted his arm, and this time, he didn't hide it. He pulled back the cuff of his sleeve, revealing a network of black veins that looked like a cracked mirror shattered across his wrist. They weren't just lines; they were raised, shimmering with a faint, iridescent purple hue.

I froze. I'd seen a thousand cases of the Black Vein, but never this. The infection in the children was chaotic, messy. But Silas's... it was organized. It looked like a map.

"When did this happen?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. I reached out, my fingers trembling as I hovered just above his skin. I wanted to touch it. I needed to know if it felt as hot as it looked.

"A month ago," he said. "And every day, the song gets louder. I can hear it in the back of my skull, Mira. A constant, humming choir that won't shut up."

I looked from his wrist to his eyes. The power dynamic shifted in a heartbeat. He had the keys, the guards, and the title. But I had the needle.