In the dungeon, Aeon stood with his arms folded. His eyes never left the figure chained within.
Aro sat slumped, wrists locked in enchanted chains, head bowed. His lips sealed by Selene’s spell.
One guard whispered, “He hasn’t moved all night.”
Another shivered. “But I hear scratching. Like claws on stone.”
Aeon turned to the guards. “The quiet ones plot louder.”
The guards looked uneasy. One swore he heard faint laughter, though Aro’s mouth never opened.
Aro made a low sound, his lips curling into a mocking smile.
Aeon muttered under his breath, “You’re waiting. So are we.”
The great hall blazed with fire. The long table was crowded—Liam at the head, Damian beside him, Aeon grim from the dungeon, Lerrick steady as stone. Alyn and Alec stood close, faces set. Across from them sat S
