Rowan's eyes were pits of midnight. No starlight, no soul. Just void.
And in that void, something ancient whispered with a voice that didn't belong in any realm.
Caleb choked under Rowan's grip, his feet lifting off the forest floor. His hands clawed at Rowan's arm, but the force wasn't Rowan's alone—it was something darker, colder. It wasn't flesh that held him. It was godhood twisted through a dying body.
"Rowan!" Aria screamed, rushing forward.
Elena lunged with her, but a flick of Rowan's wrist sent both women sprawling back as if an invisible wall exploded outward.
The Forgotten One tilted Rowan's head, staring at Caleb like a scientist observing an insect in a jar. "He is...tempting. The vessel of balance. The soul of fire. Perhaps I shall try him next."
"Don't!" Aria cried, scrambling to her feet. Her chest burned—the crescent mark over her heart glowing brighter with each breath. "Please, let him go. You want me. Take me instead!"
