“I—uh…” She stammered, suddenly aware of how weird this must look. A girl staring at a man’s body like it was a map of brokenness. “I didn’t mean to stare.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sure you didn’t.” His voice held a faint sarcasm, but there was no mistaking the weight of the pain in it. The cracks. They were alive, pulsing, like something hungry beneath his skin.
Lila swallowed hard, glancing down at the cracked surface of her glass. "You... you're not like the others."
The man tilted his head slightly. "Is that so?"
Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if saying it louder would make it more real. "You’re... covered in them. I can see it." She pointed vaguely at her own arm, where invisible cracks formed in the air. "The cracks. Your pain."
He stiffened. Then, for the first time, a faint, bitter laugh slipped from his lips. "So, what? You're a healer? A doctor of souls?"
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