“Just what she said—there was some kind of weird, see-through thing with skeleton hands,” Julia says. From the haunted look in her eyes, I know she saw it too.
Cold clarity settles in my bones.
“I see,” I murmur. “And did this entity touch you?” I ask Hanna.
“Y-yes,” she says, still crying. “H-here.”
She presses trembling fingers to the spot between her eyes.
Dread sinks its claws deep into my soul. I fear I know what happened…but I hope I’m wrong.
“Come up to my office—I need to examine that spot,” I tell her.
I wrap an arm around Julia, pulling her close, grounding myself in her warmth. She leans into me instinctively, and the simple act nearly undoes me. Despite all this danger and dread, I feel better with her at my side.
“Don’t worry, my darling, we’ll make sure your friend is all right,” I tell her.
But even as I say it, fear coils tight in my chest.
If the Necromancer Don has marked her…
I do not finish the thought. I simply lead them inside, already bracing myself for the truth.
54
Jules
Lucian’s arm is firm around my shoulders as we move through the corridors of the Crimson Spires. His presence is steady and grounding, like a wall I can lean against even when the world feels like it’s tilting sideways. On my other side, Hanna is half-supported by Lucian’s bodyguard, her steps slow and uneven and her breath coming in shallow, frightened little pulls.
She looks wrong.
Not injured—not bleeding—but drained somehow, as though the light has been dimmed inside her. I know that sounds weird, but I can’t explain it any better than that.
By the time we reach Lucian’s office, my heart is hammering so hard I feel it in my throat.
The room itself is massive and shadowed—all dark wood and vaulted ceilings, lit by a blood-red fire that burns low in the hearth. The windows look out over the Bleeding Court, though at the moment the curtains are drawn tight, as if even the Realm itself has been shut out to make room for what’s about to happen.
Lucian guides Hanna gently into a high-backed chair near his desk.
“Sit,” he murmurs, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it.
She does, slumping slightly, her hands trembling in her lap.
I hover close, unwilling to leave her side.
Lucian crosses the room and opens a locked cabinet set into the stone wall. From inside it, he pulls out something that looks nothing like a weapon—but somehow far more frightening.
It’s a circular device about the size of a dinner plate, forged from blackened silver and etched with fine, spiraling runes. At its center is a disc of smoky crystal—cloudy and dark—shot through with faint veins of greenish light that pulse slowly, like a heartbeat.
The air around it feels colder than the rest of the room, which is really weird and unsettling.
“What is that?” I ask, my voice tight with worry as I take a step back from it. “What does it do?”
Lucian doesn’t look at me as he activates the device, tracing one long finger along the etched runes. The device hums softly, the crystal brightening.
“It is called the Vespar Lens,” he says. “It reveals invisible bindings—marks of claim, ownership, or intent—placed by other magical entities.”
My stomach drops.
