Lyla’s pulse was steady.

Her hands were not.

The whisper was gone.

But its presence lingered not in the air, not in the ruins, but inside her.

It had given her a choice.

She had refused.

But the way it had laughed

The way it had let her go so easily

It felt less like a victory.

And more like a delay.

Like it was waiting.

And Lyla knew

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Jonas was the first to break the silence.

"You said no," he repeated. "But it’s ...