The Huntress of Hollowbone stepped into the chamber like a nightmare sharpened into flesh. Her cloak of bone fragments clattered with every movement, her pale bow curved from the ribs of some forgotten god.

Her eyes locked on me, cold, merciless, eternal.

Her voice carried like cracking marrow.

“Child-bearer. The womb must not quicken. Flesh that holds prophecy is a threat to the Hollow. To the Bone. To all.”

She raised the bow. The arrow she nocked glowed pale, humming with death. And ...