The passage opened into a chamber larger than I expected, the darkness giving way to soft, ambient light that seemed to bleed from the walls themselves pale gold, the same color as the light that had spread from my collarbone in the arena, like the room recognized the magic in my blood and had simply been waiting to answer it.The chamber was circular, its walls carved floor to ceiling with names. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands, spiraling upward in a script that shifted between old court dialects I only partially recognized. At the center stood a single stone pedestal, and on it, resting undisturbed for what looked like centuries, a book bound in dark leather with a single silver eye embossed on its cover, the same mark Isolde's house wore.I approached carefully, the bond-mark on my collarbone pulsing steady and warm, not urgent now, almost peaceful, like it had led me here on purpose and was satisfied to finally arrive.The names on the walls, I realized as I got closer, weren't
Zuletzt aktualisiert : 2026-08-07 Mehr lesen