The locket slipped from Damian's fingers.
Clatter
It hit the floor, bouncing once before settling against stone.
But the light didn't fade.
The figure remained suspended in the air, glowing softly, features painted in shades that looked real.
"F-Father, are you–"
Damian's hand shot forward, reaching toward the figure with desperate speed.
His fingers spread, trying to touch, trying to confirm something his mind refused to accept.
But his hand passed straight through until it emerged on the other side holding nothing except empty air.
His breathing stopped completely.
'W-what's going on?'
The thought formed scattered and confused.
'Did he somehow survive? Did he find a way to– or is this a soul fragment like Grandpa's? Did Father leave part of himself behind to–'
His mind raced through possibilities, through desperate hope that refused to die despite everything screaming otherwise.
Before the spiraling thoughts could find solid ground–
"Hey there, little Damian."
