"What is your name?" Marcus asked the girl, his voice calm yet firm, cutting through the oppressive silence of the room.
The girl looked up, her hands still trembling as she sat perched on the edge of her bunk. "R-Remy," she stammered, barely able to meet his gaze.
Aziz stood by, watching. Marcus's tone was unusual, more pointed than before. He wasn't hiding his speech—he wasn't pretending to be mute. That fact alone made Aziz pause. Poor girl, he thought grimly, already piecing together what was about to happen.
Remy's gaze flickered nervously between them, lingering on Aziz, drawn to the way his long black hair framed his sharp features, his dull purple eyes seeming to glow faintly in the dim light. Those eyes—cold, unfeeling—captured her attention entirely, and it took her a moment to realize she was staring.
"You're the Ghost," she whispered, her voice shaky but tinged with awe. "The leader of the Divine Snake Cult."