They were standing in a vast chamber, round and hollow, its walls swallowed in darkness. Only a circle of torches burned, casting flickering golden light across the stone floor.
And at the very center, illuminated like a figure on a stage, was a woman.
Her wrists and ankles were chained to an obsidian pillar, her head bowed, hair spilling like ink over her shoulders. The chains glowed faintly, etched with runes that pulsed in rhythm with her shallow breaths.
Selis froze. ". . . Is that—"
Lucian raised a hand to silence her, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward.
The woman's presence dominated the room. Even in her confinement, even with her body slack and bound, there was something immense about her. The air seemed to bend around her, like a storm barely held at bay.
Selis shivered, instinctively stepping closer to Lucian. "She looks . . . dangerous."
Lucian's hand hovered near his sword, his expression unreadable. "She is."
