The chant had steadied again, but it was costing them. Sweat streaked the children’s cheeks; their shoulders shook with the effort of holding hands so tight their knuckles had gone bone-white. The dew lines that had glowed faint silver were brighter now, like thin seams of molten metal etched into the field. The air smelled of wet grass, iron, and something older—stone warmed from within.
Valerius stood bound inside their knot of power, arms pinned, chest crossed in black cords. The ribbon across his mouth muffled the promise of every threat he wanted to spit. His eyes were bright and vicious, pale as bone, furious that silence had been forced on him.
Ravyn, Cassian, and Grayson crouched at the very lip of the circle, so close the heat of the lines prickled their skin. “Hold,” Grayson ur
