The sky burned crimson as the last light of day faded into a thick, choking dusk. I stood facing Ryker, the air charged between us, heavy with everything unspoken. His jaw tightened, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“We have to be ready,” he said, voice low.
“For what?” I asked, wiping my sweaty palms against my pants.
His eyes flicked up to the horizon. “Something old. Something wrong.”
A shiver ran down my spine, but I shook it off. “I’m tired of vague threats, Ryker. If you know something, tell me.”
He stepped closer, the heat of his body washing over mine. His hand brushed my arm. Barely touch, but it sent a tremor through me.
“Lysandra,” he said, the name like a curse. “The Witch Queen. She’s waking up.”
I blinked, stunned. “I thought she was a myth.”
“She was
