A cube.
Perfect.
Opaque.
Rotating in place, each face lined with seals that were neither light nor shadow, but something older.
A hum vibrated through the floor—low, resonant, synchronizing with Lindarion's heartbeat.
Nysha whispered, "What… is that?"
Ashwing was shaking. "I think… I think we found the thing that even the devourer didn't want."
Lindarion stepped forward.
The air shifted. The moment he crossed an invisible boundary, the cube rotated faster. The seals rearranged themselves. Runes spiraled outward from its surface and spread across the air like ripples in water.
Nysha grabbed his arm on instinct. "Wait—you don't know what it'll do—"
"It's reacting to him," Ashwing said, voice trembling. "It's recognizing him like the trial sphere did."
A pulse lashed from the cube.
Not an attack.
A summons.
