The witch knelt and placed the Veilstone on the ground between them. With one hand she drew a circle around it in the dirt, her fingertip glowing faintly with dark magic. Symbols began to shimmer into place, ancient and wrong, like they didn’t belong in the waking world.
“Your blood,” she said without looking up. “Just a drop on the stone.”
He moved slowly, dragging his dagger across his palm and letting the blood drip onto the Veilstone. It pulsed weakly.
Danielle's heart pounded as she stared at it, the slight shimmer it had held was gone. It had simply vanished the instant the blood had touched it.
The witch clicked her tongue. “And now… the soul.”
The Hunter froze. “You said it didn’t have to be mine.”
“I did. And I meant it.” She pulled a small cage out from behind a nearby tree
