The Heir of the Gate The gate moved. Slowly. Terrifyingly slowly. The crack widened. Just a little. Yet the entire chamber shook. Stone shattered from the ceiling. Ancient pillars groaned. Darkness poured from the opening like black smoke. Like liquid shadow. Like something alive. Then the voice spoke again. Directly to Thomas. "Welcome, heir." Nobody else seemed to hear it. At least not clearly. Because everyone looked confused. Only Thomas froze. Only Thomas felt the words inside his head. Then the spear blazed bright blue. Almost painfully bright. The darkness recoiled immediately. Hissing. Retreating. God. The gate hated the spear. Fair. Very good news. Reasonable honestly. Then the voice laughed. A low. Ancient laugh. "You carry the King's weapon." Thomas gripped the spear tighter. Then: "And my prison key." The crystal. The spear. The gate. Everything connected. Then Lily stepped beside him. "What is it saying?" Thomas swallowed. Hard.
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