Silence stretched across the abyss.

The door stood open.

The Forsaken the beings who had been locked away for centuries, who had been nothing more than whispers in the dark knelt before her.

Lyla’s breath was steady, controlled, but her entire body hummed with power.

Not stolen.

Claimed.

Her Mark still burned on her chest, no longer a brand of servitude, but something more.

Something hers.

The queen her mother, or what was left of her watched from the throne, silver eyes ...