The One
“We’ll each have to make a small offering. In blood.”
Maerilee doesn’t hesitate, drawing her dagger and pressing it to her palm. I watch as the blade slices her skin, a thin line of crimson welling up on her hand, and then she places her palm against the stone, letting the blood seep into the ancient carvings. Akin follows suit, then River, and finally, I do the same, feeling the sting of the cut, the warmth of my own blood as I press my palm to the stone.
But nothing happens. The light in the runes dims, flickers, then fades entirely, leaving us standing in silence, the entrance still sealed, the way forward closed off.
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