A horn. Curved. Jagged at the edges. Glowing faintly with some inner light that made his chest tighten with dread he couldn't explain.
He'd seen it before.
No—he'd 'felt' it before.
In his past life, just days before everything went to shit, before Emperor Leo cornered him, before Elena drove her sword through his heart—small horns had started growing from his skull.
Thin, useless things that granted no power, only questions and stares. And they'd been that same shade.
'Purple.'
Viktor's jaw clenched hard enough to make his teeth ache. His free hand—not held by either woman—dropped to his lap, fingers curling into the wool fabric covering his legs until his knuckles turned white.
'System.'
He focused inward, his inner voice sharp and demanding despite the fog still clouding his thoughts.
'That dream I just saw... it has something to do with my race, doesn't it? Answer me.'
Silence.
No blue interface flickered into view. No text appeared in his mind's eye. Nothing.
