THE SHADOW THAT THINKS
The air thickened until it hurt to breathe.
The molten ceiling groaned under the weight of cracking stone; glowing fissures webbed outward like veins of liquid lightning. Heat pressed against their skin, not just burning but thinking, evaluating, calculating the angle of each heartbeat as if the chamber itself had become the mind of the Primordial Shadow.
The pulse that shot out of the molten heart had not simply been power.
It had been a signal.
A command.
A declaration.
Nara’s breath hitched. “It’s… reorganizing itself.”
Lyra’s golden aura shivered in reluctant acknowledgment. “No. It’s ascending.”
Riven’s claws dug into the molten floor, smoke curling from the tips. “Then we strike before it finishes.”
Kael didn’t reply.
He stared at the shimmering form
