"The Guardian of the Prison is still alive."
The Keeper's words seemed to stop the mountain itself.
No one moved.
Not Kael.
Not Silas.
Not the wolves gathered among the shattered statues.
Even the black-gold mist crawling through the cracks in the Hall seemed to hesitate.
My heart pounded.
"And Lara..."
The Keeper's silver eyes held mine.
"...you already know them."
I stared at him.
"What does that mean?"
He didn't answer.
"Who?"
The chains around his body flickered.
"Tell me."
"I cannot."
Frustration surged through me.
"Then show me."
His expression changed.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For me.
"Lara—"
"Show me."
Kael stepped closer.
"You don't have to do this now."
"Yes."
I looked at him.
"I do."
Five years.
Five years of secrets.
Richard had known my father.
