The sky split open.
Not with lightning—but with shadow.
Raze had seen war. He had seen death. He had even watched the world burn once, on the edge of a forgotten battlefield, with blood slicked across his chest and his enemies gasping at his feet. But this—this was different.
This was her.
Amara stood in the center of the Keep’s courtyard, the storm swirling around her like a crown. Her hair lifted on an unseen wind. Her eyes burned brighter than they ever had, like twin suns being devoured from the inside.
“I told you to leave,” she said, her voice not hers anymore. Not entirely.
“I won’t,” Raze growled, stepping closer despite the weight of her magic pressing down on his bones. “I don’t care what’s waking up. I’m not letting it take you.”
Her lips curled. “You think I’m being take
