SOLD TO THE WEREWOLF KING
But as Kaelen half-carried me up the stairs, past the unconscious form of the mercenary, Lyra’s voice stopped us, thin and reedy with a new terror.
She was pointing at the grimoire in my limp grasp.
Where the symbol on the cover had glowed with soft, silver light, a new, ugly color was now bleeding into it. A vein of corrosive, sickly green was crawling through the spiral, like a poison working its way through a bloodstream.
“The Defiler felt it,” she whispered, her face ashen. “He felt you use the Symphony. You have shown him the key is not just alive… but that it can already turn the lock.”
Hot Chapters