Page 141 of Savage Crown

Nhilian is waiting.

The moment we step inside, the air shifts. It’s thick, too thick, curling against my skin like smoke, whispering in the silence. The ruins stretch before us—endless—columns of blackstone reaching toward the heavens, walls carved with forgotten symbols.

This place is ancient.

I shudder. Something watches us from the dark. I feel it. It's not just Nhilian. The moment my foot touches the first step toward the altar, the glowing begins.

At first, I think it’s just the cave—a trick of the torchlight, a reflection of the blue fire licking at the torches embedded in the walls.

But no.

It’s me.

The ink etched into my skin ignites, shifting, moving beneath my flesh like living threads of light.

I inhale sharply, fingers twitching.

The pull is relentless.

Dragging me forward, toward the altar.

"Seraphina," Rylan murmurs. His voice is sharp, urgent. "What the hell is happening?"

I can’t answer.

I don’t know.

My steps, resistant, somehow quicken.

The closer I get, the stronger it becomes—the pulse beneath my skin, the whisper in my bones.

This place knows me.

It has always known me.

I was made for this.

To open the door.

To complete what was started long before I ever drew breath.

The altar rises before me, monolithic, carved from the same obsidian stone as the cave.

It’s cracked, split down the center like a wound that never healed.

And behind it?—

A door.

A massive slab of stone, carved with sigils I don’t recognize.

Rylan grips my arm.

"Seraphina," he demands. "What is this?"

My breath shudders.

I move my arm, the ink shifting, twisting, aligning with the carvings before me.

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