The fortress of the Vampire Queen was not made of stone or steel.
It was carved from bone.
Ancient dragon ribs, bleached by time, fused with black marble and sealed with blood magic. It sat like a wound on the earth, pulsing with shadow.
Ivy and Kael stood on the cliff edge above it, cloaked in concealment wards Ember had drawn herself.
“You sure about this?” Kael asked, his gold-red eyes scanning the perimeter.
“We’re not leaving without the soulstone,” Ivy said.
“And if she’s expecting us?”
“Then we burn our way through.”
They descended at twilight.
Kael shifted midway—silent, shadow-form, just human enough to keep the wards intact. Ivy walked beside him, her flame coiled tight under her skin like a loaded weapon.
There were no guards at the outer gates.
Not a soul in sight.
