Page 80 of Veil of Dust

The edges ripple in the low light.

A breeze touches my cheek—cool, soft, like a breath from lips I haven’t kissed in years.

The flame bends, flickers sideways.

And then—

“Trust him.”

I don’t move.

I don’t blink.

The voice isn’t thunder.

It’s not imagined.

It’s Leon’s.

Real. Soft. So close I could reach for it.

I open my eyes.

The card’s still upright.

The wax shifts in the dish.

I sit frozen, one hand resting against my thigh, the other brushing the edge of the deck.

“Leon,” I whisper.

No answer.

But the feeling lingers.

Not grief.

Not guilt.

Presence.

I clutch the locket.

Press it flat against my skin.

“You were there,” I whisper. “Weren’t you?”

Nothing.

No more words.

But the flame straightens again. Steady now.

I lean forward, fingers trembling slightly as I draw a second card.

The Two of Swords.

Choice.

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