Emma stared at the slumped figure on the throne. The man who had held the secrets of the universe was dead. The man who had controlled an army of the dead was just an empty husk.
She let out a long, shaky breath, the tension of the last few hours finally leaving her body.
"It's over," she whispered, the words sounding small in the huge, dark room.
"No," Rhys said, his voice a low, practical rumble. He was already walking towards the massive stone door. "It's just beginning."
He stopped in front of the portal entrance. It was a perfect circle of black stone, at least thirty feet high, sealed by a single, seamless slab.
The golden runes that covered its surface pulsed with a power that felt ancient and absolute. He reached out and placed his hand on the cold stone. He felt nothing.
It was not a physical door to be pushed open. It was a conceptual lock, a piece of divine law.
