Two Kierans stood in the same space—one real, one not—and the silence between them stretched like a wire pulled too tight. Arianna's hand hovered near her blade, not drawn, not sheathed. Waiting. Watching.
Adams sat in a chair he conjured to existence like a man who had all the time in the world.
Because he did.
The second Kieran stared at Adams with an expression that was almost fond. Almost familiar. The kind of look you give someone you haven't seen in centuries but still remember down to the smallest detail.
"You really don't remember, do you?"
Adams tilted his head. A single motion. Calculated. Curious.
"Remember what?"
"The Observatory."
Nothing.
"The seventh collapse."
Still nothing.
"That old chessboard. The black sea."
Adams's expression remained unchanged. Flat. Unreadable.
