Chapter 13: The Promise and the Pact
The city was quiet.
Too quiet for a place like Vantier Hollow, where neon usually bled into the sky and sirens sang lullabies to the damned.
But tonight, the streets whispered.
And Dirga walked alone.
He made his way back to his apartment under flickering streetlights, the moon hanging overhead like a silent witness. The wind tugged at his coat as if trying to hold him back. But he didn’t stop. Couldn’t.
His thoughts were elsewhere.
On her.
Inside his apartment, the door clicked shut behind him.
Dirga stood still for a long moment, letting the silence settle. The place was dark, cluttered with old books, incense sticks, and empty coffee cups. The scent of burnt herbs and dried blood still lingered in the air from past rituals.
He ran a hand across his face, fingers brushing the scar over his left eye — a mark he’d earned the night Naya collapsed. A reminder.
He walked to the old photo on the wall. Naya smiled in it. So did Jane. He didn’t.