(Adelaide)
The words weren’t fading. They were hardening—settling in her bones like ancient truth. He will devour you. Her pulse stuttered.
Something warm and golden shifted inside her chest—a slow, coiling stir, as if that flame inside her had heard the warning and answered: I know.
Her flame. Her literal, living flame. Not the heat of Hell. Not adrenaline. Not fear. But a presence. A pressure. A response.
Earlier in the hallway… the runes had lit for her. Not Cael. Not Apollo. Her.
And Cael had looked at those glowing symbols the way some men looked at weapons that weren’t supposed to exist anymore.
Her breath shook as she moved toward the carved obsidian bedside table. She let her fingers brush the surface— And the stone warmed instantly. Alive. Obedient. Responding to her.
