The sky over the cathedral was the color of old blood and pale steel. Dawn had just broken, but the half-rebuilt walls still carried the black scars of the last battle. Aiden stood alone on the western battlement, one hand pressed against a cracked parapet. The stone felt cold under his palm. He pushed a thread of his new power into it.
The break sealed with a low grind. Fresh veins of silver and gold spread through the masonry like roots. For three heartbeats the repair held perfectly. Then the pain hit—sharp, like someone drove a heated nail through his spine. Aiden's vision flickered. The world went black.
*Let me out,* the chained thing whispered inside his skull. *They weaken you. The women. Their bodies, their needs. Cut the chains and I will give you strength without price.*
