The priest's footsteps echoed frantically ahead, growing fainter as he descended a narrow flight of stone stairs hidden at the end of the corridor.
Lucien followed at the same unhurried pace, claws tapping rhythmically against the cold walls as he dragged them lightly along the stone for the sheer pleasure of the sound. Rogue's presence thrummed with anticipation, feeding off every panicked heartbeat that drifted back to them.
The air grew colder and damper the deeper they went, carrying the scent of ancient earth, mold, and something sharper, old blood and moonlight magic. Lucien's golden eyes cut through the darkness like twin flames.
"He's heading for the crypts," Rogue observed, voice laced with dark delight. "Smells like death down there… and power. Old power."
Lucien's smirk widened. "Good. Let him lead us straight to it." Just as he had promised, he was going to get his mate back from the goddess realm. He didn't care if she loved in hell, afterall, he was made for hell.
