The light burned.
Not my skin—my bones.
It poured through my fingers in a rush so violent I cried out, knees buckling as the Sanctuary answered my touch like a living thing finally drawing breath. The relic flared blinding white, then gold, then something deeper—older—threaded with silver veins that pulsed in time with my heart.
The chamber moved.
Stone pillars groaned as sigils carved into them ignited, light racing upward in spirals. The hum beneath my skin swelled into a roar, not sound exactly, but pressure—like the world leaning in to listen.
Rachel grabbed my shoulders, shouting something I couldn’t hear.
Voices filled my head instead.
Not one.
Many.
Ancient. Layered. Wolves and women and men speaking together, overlapping, their words folding into meaning rather than sound.
