C10 Twilight’s Grasp

Eveline swayed on the knife-edge of oblivion. Below her boots, nothing but hungry, swirling darkness. Cassian’s cry – raw, fading, ripped from the depths – echoed around her, a sound that scraped her soul raw. It wasn’t just in her ears; it vibrated in her bones, a phantom limb of sound where his presence should have been. The air itself was her enemy here, thick as wet wool and twice as cold