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Something was wrong.
Cheska exhaled, but her breath came out uneven. A strange chill crept through her veins, yet sweat beaded on her forehead. The room was steady, unmoving, yet she felt an unseen weight pressing down on her chest.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she clenched them into fists.
Calm yourself.
A whisper. Low, firm, and familiar.
Cheska barely reacted. She had grown used to them— the murmurs that slithered through her thoughts like shadows, quiet and omnipresent.
The dark magic inside you is unstable. Breathe.
She did.
The breath came out slow, measured, but the pressure didn't ease.
"Lady Cheska?"
Kayer's voice was sharp with worry.
She barely had time to register him moving before he was at her side, kneeling beside her chair. His fingers brushed against her wrist, and he flinched.