Lucia’s lips moved quickly, the words were sharp and ancient. The air in the dungeon thickened, humming with a faint red glow that began to gather around her hands. The small object she held—an orb carved with runes—quivered like something alive. Freya’s eyes widened as the strange light spread across the floor, creeping toward her like veins of fire.

Lucia’s voice grew louder, harsher. Each syllable bit through the cold, echoing against the damp walls. The glow brightened until it ...