Fated by fire and fortune
Every step carried them closer to the heart of Lucian’s power.
And then they saw it.
A clearing, ringed with stones carved in the language of the old gods. At its center, a pool of black water shimmered in the moonlight—Lucian’s fount of corruption. And there, clad in armor wrought of bone and shadow, Lucian himself waited.
“Selene,” he said, his voice like silk over a blade. “So good of you to come.”
She stepped forward, her blade drawn. “I didn’t come to talk, Lucian.”