Elira returned to the bookstore that evening, only to find the door locked and the windows dark.
"Maevra?" she called, but there was no answer.
A shiver ran down her spine. The city felt different tonight—colder, heavier, as if unseen eyes watched her from the shadows.
She clutched the tome and hurried home, unaware that across the rooftops, a figure followed her.
Not all forces welcomed the return of the ancient magic. Among them was a Hunter—bound by his own dark oath to prevent the Promised One from rising.
Kaelen, sensing the shift in the magic, quickened his pace through the unfamiliar streets. He could feel her presence growing nearer—and the threat stalking her.
"Not yet. I must reach her before the darkness does."
A storm was coming.