The air in the reliquary pulsed like a heartbeat, each thrum reverberating through my bones. This place wasn't just old; it was alive. Ancient magic—powerful and unstable—seeped into every crack, every rune etched into the walls.
Karina kept close, her rapier drawn, but her unease was written all over her face. "Ride, this place feels wrong."
"It usually does when you're somewhere you shouldn't be," I muttered, staring at the altar where the glyph fragment sat. The moment I'd placed it, something inside the chamber had woken up.
Helvar's heavy boots scraped against the stone. "I don't like this. That thing on the altar—it's calling to something."
"Well, let's hope it's not asking for room service," I quipped, more for my own sanity than anything else. My instincts were screaming at me. The kind of screaming you don't ignore.
