The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting silver light through the high windows of the stone fortress. Zagreus stood in the dim glow of the torches, staring at the chamber door before him. Beyond that door, Ingrid lay in peaceful slumber, her breathing steady, her body finally at rest after the endless battles that had tested her endurance.
His fingers twitched at his sides.
He could end this now.
He could take the dagger from his belt, press it to her throat, and let the dark forces claim what they had promised him—unparalleled power. Power that would make him a god among the vampire, among wolves, a force even Rage would bow to.
The whispers of the dark forces slithered through his mind, coiling like a serpent around his resolve.
"She is the key. Give her up, and you will be unstoppable. No more war. No more struggle. Just power."
His breath was slow, measured, but inside, he was unraveling.
