Lucien
The prison recognizes us immediately.
That is the first problem.
The second is that I recognize it too.
The black stone doorway groans open beneath the mountain, silver symbols burning violently across its surface as ancient magic floods the narrow pass hard enough to make the air itself feel heavy.
Wrong.
Everything about this place feels wrong.
Aria pulses sharply beneath my ribs. Closer now. Alive. Exhausted. The chains suppress her unevenly, but the connection grows
stronger every minute we remain near the prison.
Which means the prison is failing.
Or waking.
Neither possibility is comforting.
Kaelith steps toward the entrance first. Fire burns visibly beneath his skin, white‑hot and unstable as smoke curls faintly from his
hands.
Cassian catches his shoulder. “T
