The storm hadn’t stopped since nightfall.
Lightning crawled across the clouds, flashing silver through the cracks in the tower walls. Lyra sat near the hearth where a timid fire fought to live, her arms wrapped around her knees. Kael paced the narrow space like a caged wolf.
Neither had spoken in hours. The silence was thick enough to press on her lungs.
When thunder shook the roof again, Kael halted. “It’s following us,” he murmured.
Lyra looked up. “The storm?”
He shook his head slowly. “No. The magic. The curse.” He dragged a hand through his damp hair and crouched beside the small window slit. “It’s reacting to something near.”
Lyra rose, the faint glow of her mark an ember-shaped curve on her wrist flaring in answer. “Then we’re close,” she whispered.
They had been chasing rumo
