I stared up at the man wearing my husband's face, the golden glow in his eyes reflecting a terrifying, unyielding hunger that sent a shiver straight through my marrow. The heavy oak doors of the master study seemed to press in on us from all sides, the silence stretching so thick and suffocating that I could hear the erratic, frantic rhythm of my own heartbeat echoing in my ears. Vael'ethor. The forbidden, dead city buried deep beneath the cursed mountains—the ancestral cradle of the ancient bloodlines, and the only place on earth where the veil between the living and the dead was thin enough to touch the beyond.
