The ghost stared at Azel's expression as if waiting for him to break… she was waiting for panic, for denial, for screaming, or at least something.
Most people would be horrified to learn a centuries-old witch was now clinging to their soul like a parasite.
Azel… simply looked mildly inconvenienced.
'Sure, enjoy your stay,' he thought dryly.
Gwendolyn's pupils shrunk to pinpoints.
Her lips parted slightly, surprised that this man… actually this boy, compared to her age wasn't trembling at all.
He just accepted it as if she were a stray cat that forced itself into his house.
Azel coughed lightly and turned back to the women. "I'm fine… just twisted something."
Mira narrowed her eyes, unconvinced, but she still gently pushed him down to sit on the cavern floor.
"Then take a break. We'll handle the rest." She glanced at the small mountain of crystals they'd harvested. "You can heal yourself, right? So do that."
Azel nodded though another voice whispered in his mind.
