VISIT TO THE GRAVE
He passed the final torch and reached a heavy door carved from black oak. No lock, no handle — only a sigil scorched into the center. He pressed his palm against it. The lines flared faintly red beneath his touch, recognizing the blood . The door groaned open. Inside, the light shifted to a dull crimson. The chamber was vast and circular, carved directly into the earth beneath the palace. Chains hung from the ceiling — relics of an age when kings held their monsters, not their mercy. And there, at the heart of the room, something moved. It wasn’t flesh. It wasn’t shadow. It was both — a massive, coiling shape of smoke and sinew, its body shifting like ink in water. Its eyes glowed a muted red, the same as its master’s, but colder. The Wraith Wolf. Theodore swallowed, forcing his vo
- Writer
