The beast still held him suspended, claws embedded in his jacket, mouth split wide, panting, almost tender. And Dylan, in its arms, no longer moved. His body was there — but his mind had already started slipping elsewhere.
Until he heard a voice.
Silken and cruel all at once. It poured into his skull like molten lead.
"There you are at last, my fragment. I missed you so much."
His eyes rolled back for a moment. He tried to move. To resist. But his muscles wouldn't respond. He felt his mind being pulled toward something vast, ancient, and swamp-soaked. A foreign memory was burrowing into him. Visions. Wars. Screaming creatures, black flames, a city drowned in mist and madness.
"Let it happen. It's time to come home."
He tried to scream, but his throat only issued a strangled rasp. Blood trickled from his lips. The pain in his arm mingled with a strangely sweet heat, numbing, like a lullaby for the dead.
