The Book’s light flared, too bright, too sudden.Shadow bled through the glow, threading itself into the runes etched across its surface like ink spilled into water.The temperature in the room dropped, the hairs on Trik’s arms lifting as power surged outward.
Cush swore under his breath.“Trik?—”
Too late.
The Book pulsed again, harder, its rhythm syncing with the pounding of Trik’s heart.The table shuddered beneath his palms.Symbols he hadn’t seen since before the war writhed into place, old magic reasserting itself with brutal insistence.And then, the whisper slid through the room.Not sound.Not thought, but something older.
Mine.
Trik sucked in a breath, the word hitting him like a blade between the ribs.His magic reacted instinctively, flaring hot and dark, a crown of shadow licking up his arms as he straightened.“No,” he said, the denial tearing out of him.“They are not yours.”
The Book’s glow deepened, shadows pooling thick and heavy beneath his hands.The air vibrated, pressure building until it pressed behind his eyes, down his spine, into his bones.
They come, the whisper murmured again.The daughters.The halves.One light, one dark.
Cush went rigid beside him.“That’s not the Book,” he growled.
“No shit,” Trik growled as the dark magic that he’d once entertained rose up to meet the shadows pouring into the room.
This presence wasn’t bound by pages or ink.The Book was only a mouthpiece, a conduit.Whatever was speaking had been waiting a very long time to be heard.
“They are not offerings,” Trik snarled, leaning into the table as if he could force the words into the stone itself.“One is my Chosen and she carries my child.The other belongs to my warrior.You have no claim over them.”The power in the room spiked.
The door behind them rattled, wood groaning as unseen force slammed against it.Cush turned, striding toward it without hesitation.“We’re leaving,” he said.“Something is seriously wrong, and I need to see Elora with my own eyes.She has to be here.”
Trik felt the desperation that he heard in Cush’s voice.He grabbed the handle and wrenched it down.The latch clicked.The door didn’t move.Cush shoved harder, shoulder slamming into the wood.Nothing.No give.No tremor.
“Trik,” he said slowly, dangerously, “the door’s sealed.”
Trik stepped back from the table, pulse hammering, and reached for the bond again, really reaching this time, shoving past the fog, past the resistance.He hit a wall.Cold.Absolute.But not Cassie’s doing.She would never shut him out so completely, no matter how angry she was at him.
His magic recoiled violently.And the Book seemed to react in kind, more magic leaking from the pages.A shockwave ripped through the study, hurling Cush backward into a shelf.Scrolls and relics crashed to the floor as Cush hit stone hard, the air knocked from his lungs.
Trik barely felt it.The world had narrowed again, this time to a single, terrifying truth.The Chamber wasn’t blocking them to hide the girls.It was holding him and Cush.Because it knew exactly what Trik would do if he were free.His gaze snapped back to the Book, jaw locking as understanding settled in, cold and razor sharp.“You’re afraid,” he said softly.
The whisper coiled tighter, pleased.Balance, blood, completion.
Trik’s hands curled into fists at his sides, magic rolling off him in waves that made the runes in the room flicker.
“I sealed you once,” he said, voice low and lethal.“I can do it again.You don’t get to decide how this ends.”
The Book pulsed—once.Twice.Images burst across its surface.Trees bending, and roots splitting stone.Two figures moving through the forest, drawn forward by an unseen pull.Cassie and
Elora.
Cush dragged himself upright, breath ragged.“It’s going to trap them.”
“Not yet,” Trik said, never looking away as he gripped the book with both hands and pushed his magic into it, seeking the intent behind the Chamber.Why did it want them?The image warped, shadows bleeding into light, the vision stuttering like something was fighting him for control.
“Hold it,” Cush barked.
Trik pressed both palms to the Book.The darkness surged to meet him.For a heartbeat, it welcomed him.Then pain lanced up his arms, shadows clawing higher, hungry and insistent.His teeth clenched as he fought to hold the vision, sweat breaking along his spine.
“Trik!”Cush lunged for him.
He tore his hands away just in time.The Book slammed shut with a thunderous crack.Silence crashed down around them, thick and suffocating.
Cush swallowed hard.“It wants them.”
