The air inside the observation chamber was thick with tension.
The hum of machinery buzzed in the background, a faint undercurrent beneath the sound of Lyrium's uneven breathing.
Alicia's gaze bore into him, sharp yet unreadable, like a blade concealed beneath silk.
"Can you tell me what you just saw there?"
Her voice was steady, measured, but Lyrium could hear it—the expectation, the scrutiny laced beneath her words.
He swallowed.
What had he just seen?
The city ruins stretched endlessly before him.
The sky, an ocean of gray swallowing the last remnants of sunlight.
And amidst the desolation—himself.
No, not just himself.
A version of himself he did not recognize.
Pale.
Hollow. Eyes like dying embers—red irises reversed, with a deep blue pupil staring back at him.
A ghost.
A ruin of what he could become.
A shiver crawled up his spine.
Was that his future?