Gendis — Vel

Until me.

He didn't crawl out. He rose through the dirt, particle by particle, assembling himself from the soil. Vel Gendis was not a man in any way that matters. He had the shape of one—two arms, two legs, a head—but his proportions were wrong. His fingers were too long, his joints bent in directions that suggested hinges instead of bone. His skin was the colour of a drowned body, a pale, translucent grey, and beneath it, something moved. Not organs. Not blood. Shadows . Shadows swimming in his veins. vel gendis

Silas just looked at me. His eyes were the colour of wet slate. "You think we chain the ground because we're superstitious, miss? We chain it because it moves ." Until me

He turned. Those void-eyes fixed on me. "Oh, but I do," he said softly. "It is my nature. The sorcerer built me from hungers. And the first hunger, the deepest one, is this: I want to be known. Not loved. Not feared. Known. And the only way to be truly known is to leave a mark that never fades." Vel Gendis was not a man in any way that matters

"Vel Gendis," I whispered the third time.

I couldn't move. I couldn't scream. My tape recorder clattered to the ground, still running.