Azriel and Leirza re-established contact with Gio and Lysara—using the spike Leirza now always kept embedded in his body, like a shard of the world he refused to leave behind.
They were camped at the edge of the Neuraleth–Evascera border, just about ready to cross. But before they could go any further, Leirza brought it up.
"You heard, right… about Nessa?"
Silence.
On the other side of the connection, the stillness was heavier than anything void could conjure. And then, Lysara's voice cut through—but it was fragile, threadbare.
"Yeah… we did."
Even through the spike, Azriel and Leirza could feel it. The weight. The hurt.
They weren't just down. They were clinging to something.
Leirza's voice trembled, just barely.
"No way she's really dead though. She's Nessa."
Another silence. Then Lysara, after a sharp breath, said softly:
"Yeah. You're right… I hope she really isn't."
There were no goodbyes, no final words. Just mutual mourning unspoken.
