The sky bled.
A slow, deliberate spill of crimson across the horizon as if the heavens themselves were hemorrhaging. Not sunset—a warning.
Aelira stood in the aftermath of the Herald’s death, her blade dark with ash and ichor. Around her, the valley steamed, scorched and broken. The others gathered behind her—Vess, Kael, Cain, and the remnants of the Bloodbound—silent, watching.
Then the wind stopped.
No rustle. No breath.
Only a voice.
Not in the air.
In her mind.
The door is open.
Aelira staggered.
Cain caught her by the shoulder. “What is it?”
She turned, eyes wide. “Something’s coming through.”
⸻
Below the Silver Court
The Sealed Chamber had split open.
Stone crumbled like parchment, runes burned black, and from the center rose a figure wrapped in shadows that didn’t fal
