(Black Serpents Guild Headquarters, Recovery Wing, Two days later)
The man sitting in the corner of the reinforced chamber looked like Dupravel Nuna.
He spoke like him.
He gave orders like him.
But Antonio wasn't sure if it really was him anymore.
Dupravel sat slouched on the floor, not the bed. His eyes darted around the room, never once meeting another's gaze. His lips moved even when silent, as though muttering to voices only he could hear.
His left arm—torn open days ago from compulsive scratching—still bled in patches, but he kept clawing at it anyway, as though if he tore away enough skin, he might finally be clean of the taint.
"Dupravel," Antonio said softly, sitting a few feet away on a stool. "Talk to me."
"I am talking," the man replied, his voice thin and uneven. "You're just not listening fast enough."
Antonio didn't correct him.
