The scent of blood and spirit ash still lingered in the air, thick and metallic. Aria stood in the aftermath of the shattered ritual chamber, her heart hammering like a war drum. The sky above the ruins of the Seer's Temple had turned an unnatural shade of silver, the moon hanging low like a judge waiting to pass verdict.

Caleb was kneeling beside the circle’s remnants, sweat glistening on his brow, his hand clutching the crescent-shaped scar that had begun to glow again. Across from him, ...