(Chapter 44:Mira's Pov)
The warlock stood at the edge of the room, his presence like a shadow stretching too far. His robes, tattered and steeped in forgotten magic, smelled of damp earth and old parchment. The weight of his words settled over us like a storm waiting to break.
"Your power," he said, voice thick with something unreadable, "is not just yours."
Mira crossed her arms. "Then whose is it?"
He met her gaze, unblinking. "It belongs to your past self. To the blood oath you swore long before this life."
A silence stretched between us. The air tightened.
Lorenzo shifted beside me, his body a wall of tension. "What oath?" His tone was sharp, almost a growl.
The warlock exhaled. "One that binds you to something much older than the Abyss Order. Your power is shackled to a fate you never agreed to in this life, but one that cannot be severed without consequence."