Chapter Twenty
Bonefire and Betrayal
The Hollow shuddered with every step Thorne took.
Lyra stood at the frozen altar, wind tangling her hair as she clutched Kael’s arm to keep him grounded. He was breathing hard now, his pupils flickering between his usual storm-gray and the creeping black of the curse. Each heartbeat pulled him further from himself.
“We don’t have time,” she whispered.
“Then we make time,” Kael growled.
Veyra had drawn a warding circle around the altar. Frostborne warriors stood at each cardinal point, their blades drawn and runes lit, but the black mist slithered through the cracks like water, coiling around ankles and armor. Lyra could feel it — the Harbinger’s presence pressing against the edges of the ward like a battering ram.
And behind it, her uncle Dren. A
