"Power borrowed from broken gods always comes at a price, and I fear the Fae have already paid in blood."
The walls here breathed with silence, and deep beneath the Pearl Castle, beyond the west wing and below the oldest sanctum, there was a room not even Caelan had dared to explore. A chamber older than kings. Carved into the marrow of the sea stone. Marked only by a circular arch that hummed when I passed beneath it, recognizing me. I sat cross-legged at the center of the circular rune etched into the floor, the ancient language glowing faintly beneath my palms. The air tasted like salt and iron, and the water dripping from the stalactites above sang to me in broken whispers.
