Damien's hand lifted, a simple gesture, but it carried command. He gestured to Luna, who stood steady at his side. She reached for Morvakar's hand, her fingers threading through the sorcerer's. His skin was cool, his strength not fully restored, but she held him firmly as though willing her fire into his veins. Side by side, the queen and the banished sorcerer followed their king into Gabriel's house. Together, they were a procession of defiance, of reclamation, of truths about to be laid bare.
They entered the office. A massive desk sat squarely in the center, papers neatly stacked. Shelves upon shelves of books lined the walls, their spines gleaming.
Morvakar's eyes narrowed. He took a slow step forward, his fingers twitching in the air as though plucking invisible strings. The energy here was wrong. His lips curved into the faintest smile. "Behind the bookcase," he said.
