CHAPTER 38
AVA'S POV
The air inside the Blackthorne crypt was dense with centuries of dust.
Water dripped somewhere in the dark echoing off the ceiling. Every surface was carved from deep obsidian rock, etched with ancient wolf figures and the repeating shape of the Blackthorne crest—the curved crescent and the iron crown. It was cold, the kind of damp chill that seeped past my clothes and settled straight into my bones, thick with the heavy scent of old magic.
“The perimeter seals were shattered from the outside,” Thorne said. His voice was too quiet and controlled.
I stood just behind Draken, my arms wrapped across my chest as I watched the High Commander. Several royal guards stood near the entrance, torches held high, casting long, dancing shadows across the broken stone entrance.
