They ran through the weeping forest, the black trees a blur of grief. The heir’s panic was a clarion call, a psychic siren that scraped against Kael’s nerves and set his shadow boiling beneath his skin. Elara kept pace, her breath coming in sharp gasps, the eerie landscape both fueling her terror and igniting a strange, resonant hum within her blood.
The Heartstone spire grew larger, a shard of pale, milky crystal piercing the bruised sky. Its base was hidden by a tangle of luminous, thorned vines that pulsed with a faint, dying light the outermost physical manifestation of the ward.
A hundred yards from the vine-wall, Kael skidded to a halt, grabbing Elara’s arm. “Wait.”
The air directly ahead shimmered, not with heat, but with a wrongness that made their teeth ache. Three figures mate
