THE HALF BLOOD'S CURSE
The air hummed with power, old and deep and patient.
The elders were waiting for them in a circle of standing stones. There were seven of them, their faces weathered by centuries, their eyes bright with knowledge. Nukka stood among them, her silver hair braided, her face solemn.
"Elif Demir," the eldest elder said. Her voice was cracked with age but still strong. "We have been expecting you."
"You know why we came."
"The child." The elder's eyes shifted to Nisan, who was awake now, staring at the standing stones with wide gray eyes. "She carries both light and shadow. She is the first of her kind. And she is the key to the old magic."
Bab Populer