Freya‘s pov.

The moment we stepped into the chamber, the door slammed shut behind us.

From every corner, darkness rose—like smoke, like silk. Before I could react, black threads snaked from the shadows, wrapping around my wrists. They looked like mist but held like steel. I struggled, but the threads didn’t budge. Dorian cursed beside me. Dante grunted as the same tendrils gripped him. We were bound, helpless.

Alaric stood before us, basking in our paralysis. His ...