Chapter Twenty-Two
The Blood That Binds
The frost cracked beneath Lyra’s boots as she descended into the catacombs beneath the Hollow.
The walls here were carved with old runes—some glowing faintly, others dormant for centuries. Shadows moved unnaturally, curling away from the faint silver flame in her palm. She didn’t need a torch; her blood was enough to light the path now. Since the ritual, everything about her had changed. She felt fire beneath her skin and ice in her breath. She felt the weight of every secret buried in her lineage.
And now, she was about to face the darkest one.
Veyra’s voice echoed behind her, low and hesitant. “He’s awake.”
Lyra didn’t slow. “Has he spoken?”
“Not since the purge.”
“Good.”
They reached the cell.
Dren sat chained in a circle of bone and sal
