Ava’s POV
We left the ruins of Elira’s tomb before dawn.
Neither Damon nor I said much as we passed over the cliffs of Grayreach, the path growing more jagged with every step. Behind us, the sinkhole had sealed itself, as if the mountain was determined to erase every trace of the vessel we’d awakened.
But the glyph etched into my journal pulsed like an ember—warm, constant, ancient.
It was leading us.
Not by light or sound, but by weight. Every time we veered off the unseen path, my body felt heavier. When we followed, the air thinned, almost easing the pressure in my chest.
I had no idea how to explain that to Damon.
And truthfully, I was afraid to try.
He’d seen enough to trust my instincts. But even instincts could be corrupted.
By midday, we’d reached a narrow passage between
