The first thing Aria felt was cold stone beneath her skin. Her limbs were heavy, her mind fogged like she had been asleep for days—or centuries. Her wrists were shackled with glowing iron, etched in runes that burned against her skin every time she moved. Magic. Ancient and malevolent.

She forced her eyes open. The chamber around her was dim and pulsing with a crimson hue. The air smelled of rot and roses, and the very walls seemed to bleed shadow.

Across from her, bound to a blackened ...