Some prisons are built of stone.
Others are built of inheritance.
⸻
The path to the Bloodline Prison cannot be mapped.
It must be remembered.
Jason opens the way at the center of Blood Moon’s deepest ley circle, where the earth still remembers the first spells tied to my bloodline. Ancient sigils ignite beneath our feet in slow, aching spirals of pale red and frost-gold.
“This gate does not lead to a place,” Jason warns tightly. “It leads to a relation. A shared origin folded into shadow.”
Zane grips my hand before I can answer.
“I’m not letting her go alone.”
Jason meets his eyes.
“If she enters by blood, so can you. But your oath will stretch through realms. If it snaps—”
“It won’t,” Zane says without hesitation.
The heir stirs in my womb, a low steady pulse of readiness and
