Chapter 48: The Shadow's Rite
The heavy front door of Theron's manor clicked shut behind Lord Zamorde and his guards. For several long heartbeats, no one in the hall breathed.
The air felt thick, charged with the echo of shadow magic, as if the darkness he'd carried still lingered in the corners, crawling along the walls.
Hannah stood frozen, her hand pressed lightly to her cloak.
Inside, Ren was coiled tight, his small form thrumming with suppressed fire, his voice a sharp, furious snarl only in her mind.
"That thing was inside him. Actual possession. Not a spell, not manipulation — a shadow master latched onto his soul like a leech. If he'd touched you,
I would've burned every last bit of that darkness out of him, even if it turned Zamorde to ash."
Her chest tightened. She didn't doubt it for a second.
Ren was cruel, arrogant, quick to violence — but for her, he would destroy anything.
Theron's jaw was rigid, his knuckles white where he gripped his sword.
