🔹THORNE
Moths, everywhere.
I stopped dead for a second the moment I took it all in—shimmering silver wings blinding me. I couldn't see whatever lay in wait inside the infirmary. Then I caught myself.
"Althea," I called.
Another deafening howl split the air. The walls shook. The moths responded, fluttering harder, silvery dust filling the space until visibility dropped to almost nothing.
"What the hell is going on?" I yelled. "Is there no one in there?"
The answer came from nowhere and everywhere at once.
"Force your way in."
The crone's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and unyielding, ringing through the storm of wings like a bell struck in a burning hall.
"She is running out of time."
I clenched my jaw. "Grandmother—"
"Now, Thorne."
Another howl tore through the fortress, closer this time. Not a wolf. Not anything that belonged to this world. The sound scraped along my bones, wrong in a way that made even the shadows recoil.
Then I heard it.
Whimpering.
