The ruins convulsed. Stones cracked, tumbling from the broken arches as the floor split open. Dust and light surged upward, forcing Aric to shield his eyes.
The Watcher froze mid-stride. Its claws hovered above the scarred man’s broken body, its jagged grin faltering for the first time since it appeared. Its burning gaze shifted downward, toward the rift.
The voice returned, deeper than thunder, yet threaded with sorrow.
Not yet, Watcher.
The Watcher’s grin split wider, though unease darkened its eyes. “You dare?”
I bound you once. I can bind you again.
---
Aric’s chest burned as if his scar had been branded anew. He staggered back, clutching the girl tightly. The presence flooding from the rift wasn’t light, nor shadow—it was both, a paradox that twisted the air.
Seraphel’s wards
