Morwenna's POV
Stone trembled beneath my feet as I ran. Not with footsteps or crumbling walls—but with something deeper. The kind of tremor that came from old magic waking. The kind that remembered being buried.
My lungs burned. My heartbeat synced with the pulse of the shard at my hip, the rhythm uneven now, like it was resisting something. Or warning me.
Sabine appeared beside me at the second stairwell. She didn’t speak. Just grabbed my arm and yanked me down a narrow corridor. The walls here pulsed with ancient glyphs, faintly glowing, responding to us like blood called to blood.
"It’s him," I said, breathless.
"Yes."
"What is he?"
Sabine didn’t answer until we reached the final door—the door even Leofric had sworn never to open.
"He’s the first king. The unmade god."
My blood
