Blood Heir
“Or perhaps… a warden, and afterwards she refined them.”
A chill moved down my spine.
“Refined from what?” I asked quietly.
Cian’s gaze flicked to the window, where pale daylight filtered through.
“Something older. Wilder. Unstructured.”
My heart beat harder, “The Lost Bloodline.”
His silence was enough confirmation.
“In the fragments that survived,” he continued carefully, “there are references to cycles, to an age before the Moon’s dominion, when power was not centralized.”
“Centralized?” I echoed.