ARYA

He was waiting for me in the basement. The same place we had locked him away in desperation. The same place his screams had once echoed through the walls when Veyros clawed at his mind. But tonight, it was silent. As I descended the stairs, I already knew.

This was it.

Daxton stood in the center of the room, bathed in the dim orange glow of the emergency lights. He looked like a ghost of himself. He was hollow-cheeked, pale, but calm.

In his hands ...