“Don’t touch anything,” came the low warning behind him.
“If I break this,” he whispered, “the demon dies. But so does the part of me that remembers you.”
They descended into the chapel where the spell began. The crimson sigils on the walls had changed — twisting into shapes that breathed. In the center, a mirror waited. Not glass. Ice made of frozen blood. crimson spell volume 8
Vald stopped before it.
He drew his sword not to strike, but to swear. “Don’t touch anything,” came the low warning behind
Vald stepped past him into the dark corridor. His footsteps made no sound. That was new. Or old, Haldyn thought. Something the sword took from him and never gave back.
The mirror pulsed.
And the spell screamed.
Haldyn reached for Vald’s hand — the one not stained by claw marks. “Then I’ll write the next page myself.” The crimson sigils on the walls had changed
“You’re bleeding again,” Haldyn said.
“I’m always bleeding.”