Kine
The souls swirled and gathered.
My eyes widened as Cyra stood in front of me, a smile in her face.
"Cyra?" No, she wasn't the actual Cyra. Was I wrong about those souls being trapped? Were they actually her minions?
The figure before me, wearing Cyra's guise, was a perfect imitation, down to the mocking tilt of her head. But the eyes were wrong—they lacked the fiery spirit of Cyra, replaced instead with a cold, calculating emptiness.
"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice steady despite the pounding of my heart.
The figure didn't answer, but her smile widened, and the air around us grew colder. The souls that had gathered began to chant in a language I couldn't understand, their voices rising in a crescendo that seemed to shake the very foundations of the house.