The stair spiraled into darkness, each step a plunge into the unknown, the air growing colder, heavier, like it was pressing secrets into my skin. The dagger’s faint glow was our only light, its symbols flickering in time with the mark on my chest, a twin pulse that made my stomach churn.
The bond with Lucian burned—his resolve a steel thread, my fear a tangled knot—but it held us together as we descended, the shrine’s hum fading above, replaced by a low, rhythmic chant echoing below. Her voice wove through it, not mocking now, but calling, pulling, like a tide I couldn’t resist.
Lucian led, his blade drawn, his free hand brushing mine with every step, a silent promise—I’m here. Killian followed, his staff tapping the stone, his breaths sharp in the silence. Mara brought up the rear, he
