There was silence when I woke up. No flames. No debris. No discomfort.

Just a sky of silver.

"Michael?"

No response.

I slowly sat up. The ruins had been restored, but I lay in the meadow outside the old temple. Unbroken, the altar gleamed white.

"Hello?"

"Smooth as glass," a familiar voice responded. "You're secure now."

Rhys was neither shadowy nor monstrous as he stood at the edge of the light. Just be calm.

I froze. "Where is Michael?"

His grin was almost tender. ...