"Recurrence," Natalie repeated, the word tasting like copper and old blood. Her hand, which had been resting on the manuscript, curled into a fist. "You're talking about a soul returning. A specific soul."
Arik didn't move, but the air in the office seemed to get heavier. The pressure of his presence grew until it felt less like a man sitting behind a desk and more like an old fortress looming over her.
"Yes," he said. His voice had lost its modern, aristocratic polish, sinking into a register that was colder, older, and far more dangerous.
Natalie leaned forward, her eyes locked on his golden ones. "I found a name in the back of that book, Arik. A name that isn't in any of the official histories. Goliath."
The silence that followed was absolute. It wasn't the silence of a man caught in a lie but the silence of a king deciding whether to execute a witness.
