Amelia felt it the moment the helicopter descended through the thinning clouds—the ancient pressure, heavy and sentient, settling over her chest like an unspoken judgment. Stone rose from stone below, an immense amphitheater carved directly into the mountain’s heart. Torches burned along its curved terraces, their flames steady despite the wind, as though the mountain itself refused to allow weakness here.
The Crest Convergence.
She had prepared for this. Ethan had prepared her. She knew the history, the ritual order, the unyielding authority of the Silvercrest Council—and the deadline hanging over Ethan like a blade forged by his grandfather’s will.
Knowing it did not make standing here any easier.
Ethan’s hand closed around hers as the helicopter touched down.
“Stay with me,” he sai
