Freya‘s pov.

The castle corridors were filled with smoke, the scent of charred stone and blood hanging heavy in the air. I pressed my back to the crumbling wall, Dante and Dorian flanking me on either side. Every footstep echoed like thunder, every gust of wind carried the memory of screams.

We were hunting Idra now. And she was close—I could feel it. Like a splinter in my soul, her presence scratched at the edge of my senses.

“This way,” I whispered, gripping my ...