Eleanor had him suspended in the middle of the lodge, his body arched painfully backwards. Etched to the floor beneath him was a circle drawn from flesh and blood, and the runes pulsed faintly with each other glowing brighter with every ragged breath he took.

But what really had her frozen was the thread that hung above his head. It looked like a strand of pure light, no, pure death that ran from the runes up to his sternum. It looked so delicate, like it would snap with the faintest touch, and ...