Eira’s POV
The stone doors grind open, revealing a staircase that descends into absolute darkness. Cold air rolls upward, smelling of undisturbed dust and ancient iron.
Art clicks his flashlight off. The darkness isn't empty; it's just waiting.
"Stay close," he says. His voice rumbling lowly, entirely steady.
We fall into formation. Art takes the point, his broad shoulders blocking the draft. Soren watches the rear. Draven and I walk in the middle.
We are halfway down the stairs when the voice returns. It doesn't echo. It vibrates through the soles of my boots, deep and resonant.
"The second trial measures those who walk beside the acknowledged."
I freeze on the step.
"Those who walk beside me."
The trial isn't just about my blood. It's about them.
Art glances back, his ja
