ALARIC
The smell of sulfur inside the cave was so thick it could be chewed.
I went in first, with Damián and Klaus covering my flanks. The couple had led us over the rocks to the hidden entrance at the base of the cliff, an irregular opening invisible from the beach. I had to duck to get through, but once inside, the cave opened into a wide chamber with a cracked ceiling and a floor of polished stone.
And at the back, the altar. Exactly as they had described it. Carved stone marked with symbols I recognized instantly: demonic summoning runes, ancient—older than any pack that exists today. Dark stains on the surface that could be dried blood. And a residual energy that made every hair on my body stand on end.
But none of that mattered.
What mattered was the scent.
Beneath the sulfur,
