The dark smelled of wet stone and old blood.
The scent clung to my throat with every breath, thick and metallic, like the air itself had been soaked in violence. Lina's hand stayed locked in mine as we ran, her fingers cold and trembling, her grip so tight I could feel the bones grinding together. The tunnel was narrow, the ceiling low enough that I had to keep my head ducked, my neck aching from the constant angle. Every few steps the mark on my wrist pulsed and another year tore free.
25. 24.
Distance was supposed to slow the curse. That was what Darius had told me, what the old texts had promised, what every wolf who had ever studied the binding magic had believed. But the numbers kept falling, relentless, unstoppable, as if the curse had decided that distance meant nothing. As
