Liam stood still, blood trickling down his cheek as he thought of what lay ahead. Then Damian walked to him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “It’s done. You’ve earned this throne.”
“I don’t care about thrones,” Liam muttered. “I care about peace. But what lies ahead…Peace isn’t promised, I can feel it.”
Selene leaned against a broken column, holding her ribs. “Then you’ve got a long fight ahead. Peace isn’t handed out in places like this.”
Lady Virelle knelt by the pieces of the Mirror Throne. “The magic in this mirror… it was older than Marcus. Older than us. He was a vessel. Nothing more.”
Leila's voice echoed off the walls. “Then what was pulling the strings?”
Virelle rose slowly. “A force from before the covens… before even the Council of Ancients. Something that was buried
