The heavy silence that followed Kaelan's question hung in the cool, misty air. The iron bars of the gate felt colder than ever. Dahmer stood rigid, the words of his mother echoing in his mind, dismantling everything he thought he knew about the biological poison eating him from the inside out. There was no curse. The white medical bandage beneath his coat felt hot against his skin, a physical reminder of a failing body, but the revelation that his own mother hadn't used some ancient blood-vow to break his core left him completely confused.
He looked at Joveline's bitter, unyielding face. He looked at her sharp eyes that still blamed him for the tragedy that had torn their family legacy into pieces ten years ago. Then, he pictured Malcolm. He pictured the powerful corporate king lying flat on a medical bed in the GEM subterranean headquarters, helpless, blood-soaked, and fading into a dark coma because Dahmer lacked the Enigma strength to stabilize his condition.
