The spirit's bloodstained claws flexed mid-air, curled and poised just inches from Borik's throat. Its grin was wide — too wide — when it suddenly froze.
A flicker.
A small, barely noticeable shimmer of warm amber light against the far wall.
Its head snapped sideways, the blood-red glow of its borrowed eyes narrowing sharply.
The faint shuffle of boots.
The subtle echo of motion from the hall.
Von, still slumped against the stone with a bloodied chest and one hand pressed to his side, felt it too. He turned his head weakly toward the doorway. His breath hitched. There it was — a faint flicker of light dancing against the shadows, growing steadily stronger.
Borik, though barely able to lift his head, saw it too. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus.
The flickering light wasn't just light — it was fire.
The first shape to step through the threshold was unmistakable.
Liam.
