Chapter 16

The talisman’s burn in Killian’s chest had dulled to a steady, searing throb — like someone had nailed a star into his ribs.

Every beat of his heart sent waves of heat crawling down his arms, bleeding into his fingers until they tingled.

The shadows inside him pressed against the invisible walls the magic had thrown up, like wolves clawing to get out.

The stairwell was choked with smoke from the dying Bloodforged.

Somewhere up the steps, the clash of steel and shouts of the guild fighters drifted closer — but not close enough.

Not yet.

Varrow stood before the vault like a priest before an altar, his hand trailing the blackstone’s slick surface.

The door’s pulse matched his own heartbeat, and Killian couldn’t tell if the magic was syncing with him or the other way around.

The First Vael’s voice rolled from the stone — not loud, but deep enough to make the marrow in Killian’s bones hum.

“I can smell your indecision, Killian. You want Varrow dead. You want Daryl’s truth. And you