They emerged from the shadows of the Sanctuary just as the first true sunlight struck the peaks above Phrygia, setting the world aglow in gold and ice. Rain still clung to the grass and stones. For Constantine, each detail-every drop, every glint-seemed sharper, more laden with meaning. He felt the world's axis had shifted beneath him. The Book of the Unseen pressed against his side beneath his cloak, its weight a secret burden, its presence radiating power that both exhilarated and unsettled him.
His companions moved in a tense, silent line. Marcus glanced over his shoulder again and again, half-expecting to see the earth split or some ghostly hand reach from the broken stones. Valentinus walked close, shoulders hunched, one hand on a battered satchel of notes and glyphs. Only Valerius, face set as stone, showed no fear, though his eyes were bright and watchful.
