The moment they stepped beyond the border of the magic-free zone, Kayden stopped without a word. He crouched down on one knee, his fingers sweeping over the dirt with the precision of someone who had done this a thousand times—probably while imagining how smug he'd look afterward.
Lines of pale blue light began to bloom beneath his hands, weaving into an intricate formation circle that shimmered faintly in the dim air. The sigils pulsed once, twice, then flared to life.
Oliver exhaled like a man who'd been holding his breath since birth. "Finally."
Beside him, Thorne groaned like an arthritic grandpa, his knees popping loud enough to scare small birds. "If you're telling me we're finally getting out of this gods-forsaken place, then I might just forgive you for making me carry—"
