Page 140 of She Who Was Severed

Not falling.

Just—gone. Like the world decided it was done holding me up.

I wake in silence.

Not peace. Not calm.

Just absence.

No glow. No sound. No Owen—which, frankly, might be the scariest part. Just the stone, cooling under my side, and the throb of a body that feels like it lost a fight to something it couldn’t see.

I sit up slow.

Nothing screams. Nothing cracks. But I feel wrong in the bones.

I glance down.

There’s a mark now—right above the navel. Spiral. Ash-toned, with red-black threads branching off it like hairline fractures. Not a scar. Not ink. Just… there.

A signature.

I touch it.

It hums. Quiet. Not sound—memory. Like something older just checked a box and moved on.

I take a breath.

Not one of the deep, controlled ones from earlier. Just a regular breath. Enough to remind myself I’m still here.

And that’s when I feel it—something shifting behind my eyes. Not a voice, not exactly. More like a thought that didn’t come from me.

This body is still yours… mostly.

I smile. Small. A little crooked. But real.

Yeah. That makes sense.

Because whatever just happened—whatever the Chain just did—it didn’t take me over.

Not completely.

What’s left?

It joined me.

And whatever piece of me cracked open to let it in… didn’t seal back shut.

I roll my shoulders. Something inside still buzzing. Like a warning. Or a promise.

My smile turns sharper. Meaner.

Yeah. That tracks.

Because whatever’s in there now?

It’s not tame.

And neither am I.