Edward's mouth felt dry. His heart hammered so forcefully he was half-sure Raum could hear it.
The old man—or the thing wearing an old man—rested his chin on one hand, patiently awaiting Edward's next words as though this were a fireside chat and not a terrifying interrogation.
Edward swallowed.
"…What do you want from me?"
It escaped in a whisper. Barely a sound. But he was sure that Raum heard it as clearly as thunder.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, not cruel, not warm, just… recognizing something.
"I wondered when you would ask that," Raum said. "Humans are predictable. Eventually, you always reach the same fear."
"I'm not afraid," Edward lied, voice shaking.
"You are," Raum corrected gently. "But that is natural. You were not meant to sit across from a being like me."
Edward forced air into his lungs. "Why am I here?"
Raum didn't answer at first.
