SERAPHINA’S POV
In hindsight, it probably wasn’t a good idea to tease a psychotic lunatic backed by an unknown, powerful force.
Malachar, whoever he was, was more than willing to grant Catherine full access.
The blue veins of light embedded in the walls flared brighter, then steadier, like arteries hit by a stronger pulse. The ritual structure beneath us—carved stone, blackened metal, and sigils—began to hum in response.
And Catherine…
The difference was immediate.
The oppressive presence that bled into the room no longer felt like something she was invoking.
It felt like something she was wearing—no, not wearing, hosting.
The air around her darkened in a way that had nothing to do with light. It was as if the concept of shadow itself had gathered around her form and melded with it.
I recognized it instantly.
That same suffocating pressure from the void. That same invasive awareness that had spoken into my mind, offering me itself or death.
My stomach tightened.
