The chamber was a cathedral of c*****e, where the scent of stagnant blood mingled with the sharp, metallic tang of pulverized stone. Zeven struggled against the final remnants of the ritual’s hold, his muscles trembling as he fought to reclaim his physical autonomy. Above the pool, the atmosphere was suffocating, thick with the residual power of the Alpha’s failed invocation. The Alpha stood motionless for a fleeting second, his gaze fixed on the dagger that lay submerged in the dark, churning depths of the reservoir. The silence that followed the impact was heavy and unnatural, a pause in the heartbeat of the temple.
Then, the shadows on the high, vaulted ceiling stirred. A soft, rhythmic clicking sound echoed from the darkness, the sound of boots finding purchase on stone. Zeven looked
