"THE EMBER SIGIL NEEDS TO BE RETRIEVED," Grayson's voice cut through the quiet.
Mason finished buttoning his shirt, his usual humor nowhere to be found. Carson leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching Grayson with a look that had lost its edge.
Mailah looked at him sharply. "Retrieved?"
"It does not belong in human hands," he said. "Displayed without protection, without understanding. Someone will notice what it is eventually. And when they do, it will not remain behind glass."
Carson scoffed. "You make it sound like some tourist is going to trip over it and unlock Hell."
Grayson's gaze flicked to him, cool and unforgiving. "All it takes is one person who understands what they are looking at. Curiosity is not benign when it stumbles into power."
Carson straightened. "And how do you plan on taking it back? Breaking into a museum isn't exactly discreet. Cameras. Guards. Alarms. You forget we're supposed to be setting the standard for exiles this century."
