Lyara's POV
The moment we returned, I knew what I had to do.
The others were already busy—painting sigils on the stone floors, setting torches, preparing the chamber where Azrath's resurrection would begin. Their chants filled the air like a swarm of insects, buzzing with hunger and anticipation. None of them noticed when I slipped out the side arch and into the woods.
My breath frosted in the night air. The forest was hushed, as if even the trees feared what was to come.
I had to move quickly. If I waited too long, it would be too late. The Starborn's blood would spill, and once that happened, there would be no undoing it.
I knelt beneath the twisted oaks and began the ritual to summon her—my Queen Mother. My fingers traced a circle into the earth with ash I'd kept hidden for years, stolen from an elder's brazier. In the center, I placed three drops of my own blood, whispering words I was never meant to know.
