Hazel’s POV
The old temple was sealed for a reason.
I felt it before I saw it. The air got colder. Heavier. Like the mountain itself was holding its breath.
We’d left at dawn. Alaric, Dominic, three guards, and me. No one spoke. Alaric hadn’t looked at me since we left the pack house. Not since I’d walked out in leathers Dominic found for me, a dagger strapped to my thigh.
“You’re not trained,” he’d said, voice flat.
“Neither were you at two,” I’d shot back.
He hadn’t argued after that. Just handed me the dagger.
Now we stood at the base of the mountain, staring at a wall of solid rock. No door. No markings. Just vines and time.
“This is it?” I whispered.
Alaric didn’t answer. He stepped forward, pressed his palm to the stone.
And the mountain moved.
Stone grated agai
