Moonrise was seven hours away.
And every ticking second felt like a countdown to the end of everything we knew.
The mark of the Hollow Eye burned faintly beneath my skin not in pain, but in pressure. Like something on the other side was pushing against the barrier of my flesh, waiting for the veil to thin and split.
We had no more time for secrets.
No room for hesitation.
I stood with Lucas in the observatory, looking down at the estate. The torches around the outer wall burned blue. The Flame Keepers were already in position, drawing runes into the ground with their own blood. The elders were silent, watchful. And Auren sat alone at the center of the circle, his hands pressed together, his mouth whispering a prayer not taught in this world.
Ashara approached from the west tower, her hood down, silver eyes calm.
"I'm ready," she said.
Lucas looked at me. "What if she's the door?"
"She's not," I answered. "She's the key."
