The tower bells rang deep into the night—low, heavy sounds that echoed through the stone and chilled the bones.

Lyra stood beside Ethan on the cliff’s edge, her gaze fixed on the darkening sea. The storm approaching felt less like a normal weather change and more like a creeping shadow, alive and writhing. Thunder rumbled overhead, but it sounded strange—like distant voices crying in anguish.

“This isn’t a storm,” she whispered.

“No,” Ethan said. “It’s them.”

The ...