Silas's voice was a low, dangerous growl. "What are you?"
Vic's brow furrowed slightly, a puzzled expression flickering across his face as he processed Silas's words.
"What do you mean?" Vic asked, raising both hands above his head in a gesture of confusion and innocence.
"You were acting like a lunatic last night. Then, suddenly, you wake up, and everything's fine? I know you're pretending. So tell me, Vic—what are you?" Silas demanded. His scythe hovered mere inches from Vic's neck, a threat as sharp as the weapon itself.
"Look, man, I'm fine. I don't know what you did to me while I was out, but whatever it was, it worked. I feel normal... like my old self again," Vic replied, his voice steady but laced with uncertainty.
"What are you talking about?" Silas blurted, the tension in his voice evident.
