Heart of the Storm
The closer we came, the heavier the air became.
Every breath I took burned like smoke. The crimson glow ahead pulsed with a rhythm that matched the beat of my own heart, dragging me forward. The mark on my palm throbbed, alive and angry.
Lucien walked beside me in silence, his expression carved from stone. Shadows rolled off him in waves, shielding us from the tendrils of red mist that reached out like claws.
“Don’t look into the light,” he warned softly. “It feeds on recognition.”
I kept my gaze fixed on the black glass beneath my boots, but the pull was growing stronger. Mona’s voice whispered faintly in my mind — not words, just the sound of laughter, familiar and cruel.
“I can feel her,” I murmured.
Lucien nodded once. “She knows you’re close. The bond between
