For a long moment, I stared at the flickering spell runes on the wall—then at Damian.
“So what do we do?” I whispered, hating the tremble in my voice.
“We leave in the morning,” he said. “We head for the Blackfang Rift.”
My eyes widened. “That’s... days away.”
“I know. But the last scout returned half-dead, speaking of a massive beast guarding a core—a magic stone unlike anything we’ve seen. Enough to heal my father. And maybe, enough to fight back.”
I nodded slowly, the weight of my father’s betrayal and the coming war sinking like cold iron into my bones. “Then I’m coming.”
Damian gave me a sharp look. “Are you sure?”
“You just said someone wants me dead. I’d rather not wait for them to knock politely.”
Three days later, we rode under storm-heavy skies.
Our caravan was small—two
