Magic hummed around us like a thousand voices singing far in the distance. My hair lifted, caught by the wind, and sparks of blue-white light danced at the edges of my vision.
The temperature dropped, and goosebumps lifted across my skin. The singing stone pitched lower, more a warning than a welcome. Even the light from the walls seemed to dim and flicker, casting shadows that moved independently of our bodies.
A grating sound scraped across my bones. Beside me, Farris stiffened, a low growl rising up his throat.
Lore’s eyes locked on mine. “We woke something.”
I wanted to shield him with my body, to delay whatever waited in the dark below. But the magic saw us. It might be judging us. And all I could think was that I would lose Lore in ahundred different ways if I wasn’t strong enough to face what was coming.
Behind us, the sea gurgled and churned, surging toward us. As if it hit a wall, it stopped and retreated.
I peered around but if Prager was here, she’d hidden herself well.
“Come for me bitch,” I whispered, tightening my hand on the hilt of my blade. “You want a fight? The fates are hungry for blood tonight, and I'll make sure it's yours.”
Chapter 51
Lore
We stepped through the archway with Laphira and Dorion by our side and were greeted by silence. The air hung heavy, like the fates themselves were holding their breath.
A vast cavern stretched around us, lit by veins of glowing minerals in the walls. The ceiling arched high above, a cathedral carved by time. Cool, damp air swirled through the open space, prickling my skin. The black stone beneath our feet had been etched through with silver that swirled in patterns I couldn’t decipher.
Reyla remained by my side, and I squeezed her hand before letting go. I needed both hands to steady myself as I stepped forward.
A part of me was shifting. Listening.
The space opened wider, revealing a ruined altar on the back side. The platform had cracked, and old blood had long since dried in its grooves, creating dusky red ripples. I approached it slowly, studying the area around it. I should have blades in myhand, power ready to shoot out at any threat, but using either felt wrong here.
Dragon scales had been embedded in the walls around us. Light from luminescent insects peppering the ceiling highlighted the scales, showing some dark with age, others glinting like forgotten stars.
A silver-blue scale winked from the wall, and I was unable to resist the urge to touch it. It felt cool at first, but the moment my skin brushed the surface, it lit with heat that wasn’t fire but memory. I could barely breathe. My knees jolted. Light exploded behind my eyes, swallowing me whole.
I was no longer me, and I was watching from high above, my wings flapping in lazy strokes.
Night wrapped the forest in shadows, wind curling through the trees. Moss carpeted the ground, dotted with shallow pools reflecting the sky.
Frantic footsteps made their way through the darkness. A boy pushed through tangled vines, pausing at the edge of the overgrown meadow with The Hut. Sweat clung to his face, and anger burned in his eyes.
A sense of wrongness hit me, one as slippery as oil and colder than the deepest caves of the mountains.
I lifted my wings and soared, silent over the trees.
I didn’t know who the boy was. Yet some instinct, a burning, fierce thing, snapped awake.
Help him.
I surged through the air, a dark blur racing toward the need.
Below, the boy stumbled out into the meadow with The Hut.
A cloaked figure waited in the shadows. Watching. It didn’t move like others of its kind. It turned its hooded head toward the boy, and its intent churned its way through me. Its greed.
Rage boiled deep inside me.
It spoke, and I heard the call in the boy’s mind. Compel. Command. Control.
Shaking, the child remained in place. He tried not to move, but his shadow twisted forward, stretching toward the other. He took one step. Another. Roots pulled at his legs. His fists clenched, but he could not ignore the cloak figure’s call.
