The vibration traveled through the soles of Malphas’s boots, a low-frequency hum that made his teeth ache. He pushed himself off the cold stone, his muscles protesting with every movement. Lyra stood instantly, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade, her eyes scanning the dark perimeter of the castle grounds.
"That tremor," Lyra breathed, her voice tight. "It did not come from the ceiling of the Ossuary. It came from the earth itself. What did the High Priest awaken?"
Malphas wiped a smear of drying blood from his forehead, his breath hitching as the ground buckled once more, wider this time. A fissure began to spider-web across the courtyard, splitting the ancient cobblestones. "The ritual was not just a trap for me, Lyra. It was a seal. A cork in a bottle."
"A seal for what?" she d
