Damon tried to speak.
Tried to force even a single word out.
But the moment he opened his mouth, nothing came, because there was no air to carry it, no breath to shape it, only that suffocating emptiness pressing in from all sides as though he had been submerged beneath an invisible ocean, his lungs burning as they struggled for something that simply wasn't there.
His chest heaved.
His throat strained.
But every attempt failed.
And in front of him—
Miss Elowen watched.
Her posture relaxed, her expression soft and almost amused as she took another quiet sip of her tea, as if Damon's struggle was nothing more than a mild curiosity rather than a matter of life and death.
The contrast was suffocating in itself.
Something in Damon snapped.
His eyes sharpened.
His will surged.
And in that moment—
His resonance activated.
Fractured Ruin.
