The heavy silence in the library stretched between them, thick and almost suffocating. Even the faint rustle of turning pages had long since ceased, leaving only the stillness of the vast room around them. Near the high oak desk, neither of them moved.
Cherion's frown deepened as his eyes flicked back down to the open page, staring at the intricate ink diagrams of severed spiritual threads. He swallowed hard, pulling his hands back from the book as if the parchment itself had suddenly grown hot.
"Zarius," Cherion repeated softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you looking into this?"
