CHAPTER 212
"Did you think a broken neck would silence the message, Sovereign?"
The voice that came out of Leo's throat wasn't his own. It was a terrifying, layered amalgamation of voices—hollow, ancient, and entirely devoid of human warmth. The sound seemed to echo not from the corpse's chest, but from the very stones of the cell, vibrating violently through the damp floorboards.
Clara was the first to react. As a powerful witch who had spent a lifetime studying the forbidden and the ancient, her instincts didn't scream like any other supernatural; they calculated.
Her milky, unblinking eyes snapped away from the horrifying spectacle of the corpse and shot straight toward the damp stone ceiling.
Her head tilted, her nostrils flaring as she caught a scent that wasn't a scent at all with a freezing energy, cutting right through the mansion's heavy foundations.
She knew exactly what the fuck was happening. This wasn't a mere ghost, and it wasn't a cheap parlor trick
