"You feel it too, don't you?"
Ethan's voice was low, laced with unease as he leaned against the cold wall of the prison cell. His body ached, his energy drained, but the emptiness in his chest was far worse than any physical pain.
"What are you talking about?" Avery asked, her voice trembling. She wasn't sure if she was imagining the distant echo of his voice or if the bond between them was still holding on, fragile and faint.
"You know what I mean, Avery," Ethan said, his tone sharper now. "The bond. It's... slipping."
Avery froze, her hands gripping the edge of the ancient altar in the ritual chamber. Her breathing quickened, and for a moment, she couldn't speak.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head as if denying it would make it untrue. "That's not possible."
Ethan closed his eyes, his voice raw. "Don't lie to yourself. You feel it, just like I do."
