The Northwood cliffs rose like black teeth against the storm-lit sky. Jagged, ancient, carved by centuries of wind and whispered prayers. The Council had never dared to step foot here too many old magics slept beneath the stone.
Now, Aurelia and her ragged army approached the cliff’s base, breathless and bruised, carrying the stolen children through sheets of cold rain.
Riven stirred weakly in her arms.
“We’re close,” he murmured. “I can feel it.”
“Feel what?” she asked.
“The place where the old gods hid the first bond.”
The words sent a chill through her even colder than the rain.
Lysandra reached the cliffside first. She pressed her palm to the stone until a faint red sigil flickered beneath her touch. The rock groaned, shifting, revealing a hidden passage lit with dim, pulsating
