Lucavion's breath steadied. His hands, once trembling from the aftershock of the artifact's vision, now felt still. Purposeful.
So this is where you've been hiding.
The image of the fortress burned into his mind. A place even Draven hadn't uncovered. The artifact had done more than just reveal the location—it had linked him, however briefly, to his prey.
Lucavion had felt it.
For just a moment, the faintest pulse of presence—a tether between himself and Aldric Veltorin.
And that was all he needed.
Now, he was here.
The city streets were a blur beneath his feet as he moved, the echo of the past pressing against his ribs, urging him forward. His body was taut with tension, coiled like a blade that had been waiting for years to be unsheathed.
He had waited for this moment.
For this chance.
To cut down the ghost of the past.
