The tower groaned as if it were alive, ancient stones grinding against each other while the vibrations rattled the floor beneath their feet. Dust and debris fell from the cracked ceiling, and the faint flicker of runes along the walls sputtered like dying embers. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and something metallic—something old and wrong.
In the center of it all, Caroline stood frozen, clutching her chest as if trying to hold something in. Her breaths came in short, ragged gasps, her eyes wide and glassy. Ezra knelt in front of her, his gloved hand wrapped firmly around hers, his face taut with concern.
“Caroline,” he said softly, though his voice carried over the chaos. “Focus on me. Look at me.”
She raised her trembling gaze to meet his, her lips quivering. “Ezra… sh
