Abby POV — The Storm Before the Shadow
By the time we returned to the capital, my hands were still dusted faintly with ash and bone powder from the Southern summoning materials. We had the lake water sealed in crystal vials. The forbidden fruit tucked carefully into velvet pouches. And the bone ash wrapped in black silk, like it might come alive and bite someone.
But that night, in my mansion’s study—candles lit, spell circle drawn, Alaric watching me from the shadows—I tried.
And I failed.
The summoning didn’t ignite.
No lightning. No pulse. Just a low hum in the air and the sickly scent of burnt lavender oil.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I sat back on my heels and glared at the grimoire like it had insulted my cooking. “It’s the wrong alignment,” Alaric said quietly, kneeling besi
