“It’s you,” he rumbles, and my heart drops, the hairs on the back of my neck lifting. “Come forth into the light.” “Who died and made you king?” I rasp past my ruined throat. “My pah,” he deadpans, and a laugh bubbles out of me, tapering off before the excess motion has a chance to rip my wounds and make them weep again. “Funny.” Silence reigns.
