He paused, his body stilled as if the words had struck him, somehow deeper than he'd expected. For a moment, the room was thick with tension.
Astra stood there, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, waiting for a response that might never come. His mask, still clutched in his hand, glinted in the dim light like a weapon ready to strike.
He turned his head slowly, his sharp gaze cutting through the shadows. The air grew colder, heavier. His voice was low, dangerously calm when he spoke.
"I don't need a name."
Astra froze, her heart skipping a beat at the finality in his words. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice fragile, uncertain. "Everyone has a name."
He let out a soft, hollow laugh, his eyes gleaming with something dark and unreadable. "Not everyone is meant to be defined by one." His grip tightened on the mask, the golden edges creaking under the pressure. "Names are for those who still cling to the illusion of identity. I have no use for one."
