Veryon' POV
The air shifted.
It wasn't just the whispers anymore—it was something worse.
A presence slithered through the trees, the shadows curling like smoke as a figure stepped forward, slow and languid, as if she had all the time in the world.
Lust.
She was exactly as I remembered her. Beautiful in a way that was unnatural, her body wrapped in the kind of shadowy silk that clung to her curves, her lips curled in amusement as she tilted her head at me.
"Hello, Veryon," she purred, her voice dripping with mock affection. "Long time no see."
I stiffened, my grip on Kiara's hand tightening as more figures emerged from the darkness. Wrath. Pride. Gluttony. Envy.
They were all here.
Kiara tensed beside me, and I could feel the way her breath hitched—the way she understood, even without me saying a word, that this was bad.
Very bad.
