Chapter 8 · Something Woke Below

Cole's magic wouldn't stop.

It poured out of him like blood from a gut wound, white fire licking up his arms, crawling across his chest, and he couldn't pull it back. Every breath fed it. Every heartbeat pushed more through. The air around him crackled and warped, stone dust lifting in spirals, and his hands—his hands were shaking so hard he couldn't tell if it was rage or terror or the raw current burning through his veins.

The Taker hung in the dark below the broken floor, one chain still hooked to its shoulder, swaying. Its face was blank now. Smooth. Empty. No Kael. No mouth. Just a void where features should be, and Cole wanted to burn it until there was nothing left but ash.

"Cole." Ivy's voice, sharp. Close. "Cole, you need to stop."

He couldn't. He tried to clench his fists, tried to smother the current the way he'd been taught, but it just kept coming. His mentor's name in that thing's mouth. Kael's face worn like a mask. Thirty-seven years. The lock. The seal. The thing below.

The breathing.

God, the breathing was louder now. Slow and deep, like a mountain shifting in sleep.