Nathaniel walked toward the glass doors, looking out into the darkness. The city lights flickered in the distance, a million souls unaware that the ground beneath them was shifting. He felt the weight of the journals in his mind, the words of his grandfather finally making sense.
*The inheritance is a target.*
"Miller! Get the car!" Nathaniel shouted.
"Where are we going, sir?" Miller’s voice came back, sounding equally determined.
"To the docks," Nathaniel said. "If Malcolm wants to see a river of fire, I’m going to show him the one that’s been burning in the Sterling blood for five hundred years."
Sofia walked up beside him, her hand finding his. Her grip was cold, but her eyes were filled with a fierce, academic fire. "If we're going into a war zone, Nathaniel, I want a weapon."
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