The carriage rumbled onward along the rain-slicked road, the high stone walls of the citadel growing ever nearer. In the dim light of dawn, every face inside the carriage was etched with tension and uncertainty. I sat silently, the Codex's lingering pulse in my chest a constant reminder of the burden it had placed upon me. The ultimatum from the High Order still rang in my ears: three moons to prove mastery over this ancient power, or suffer the consequences of rebellion.
Cairon's hand, warm and steady, rested on my arm throughout the journey. His eyes, usually so expressive, held a guarded intensity that both comforted and troubled me. I could sense his silent question: "Can you control it?" And I knew that I, too, was asking myself the same. For all my defiance and every desperate promise I'd made to break free from the Codex's relentless pull, a nagging doubt remained—what if it controlled me instead?
