The fire crackled low in the cave’s hearth, casting warped shadows against the stone walls. The scent of damp earth and burnt herbs clung to the air. I stood alone in front of the obsidian altar, heart pounding like war drums. Ryker had no idea I was here. He would’ve followed me if he did, or worse—tried to stop me.
“Come out,” I said, voice firm even though my palms were slick with sweat. “I know you’re watching.”
From the shadows, the Witch Queen emerged like smoke, her movements fluid, serpentine. Lysandra looked nothing like the stories. Her beauty was otherworldly, yes—but it was the kind of beauty you didn’t survive. Long silver hair fell down her back like moonlight, her eyes glowing violet. She didn’t walk so much as she glided, robes whispering across the ground like whispers f
