"You want proof," he whispered. "Fine."
Liora's fingers flexed near his belt. "Kael—"
Seyrik's fingers snapped.
The runes ignited.
A surge of violent light flooded the cabin, bright and unnatural, casting jagged shadows across the walls. The ground trembled beneath their feet, as if something deep beneath the earth had stirred awake.
Kael barely had time to react before the walls of the cabin seemed to expand outward, the very air warping and twisting as if reality itself was buckling under the weight of whatever Seyrik had just unleashed.
A deep, guttural sound echoed from the darkness outside. Not quite a roar. Not quite a scream. But something in between—a noise that scraped against the inside of Kael's skull and made his instincts scream to run.
The first thing Kael noticed was the smell—thick, sickly, and wrong. Like blood and burnt flesh, twisted together into something foul.
Then came the eyes.
