The Rift loomed before us like the throat of some ancient beast—sealed, yes, but seething with unspeakable energy.
The rain fell harder the moment we reached its blackened edge, like the land itself was warning us. Water hissed as it touched the scorched stone. Steam rose around the edges of the Rift, curling like ghostly fingers through the trees.
Thunder rolled across the mountains.
Prince Damian stood just behind me, his cloak plastered to his frame, sword drawn but held low—like even he knew steel wouldn’t help in what we were about to do. Norma stood to my right, holding the leather-bound grimoire I’d retrieved from the palace vault.
I didn’t know if it was grief or fury guiding my hand anymore. But I was done waiting.
I dropped to my knees before the Rift’s barrier, the dirt col
