The royal library of the citadel was a cavern of ancient knowledge, its towering shelves groaning under the weight of centuries-old tomes bound in leather and etched with runes. Lanterns cast flickering gold across dusty pages, the air thick with the scent of parchment, ink, and the faint crackle of magic. Selene, Elara, and Glarinda—the gray witch sisters—huddled over a massive oak table, books piled like battlements. Their fingers traced faded scripts, eyes bloodshot from an all-night search for answers about the demonic entity that had torn through their world apart.
Selene slammed a tome shut, dust billowing. “Nothing. No record of a demon piercing layered white-gray wards like that. It’s as if the barrier was… invited to fail.”
Unbeknownst to them, across the table, Brad, son of t
