Chapter 18 · The Altar Chooses

"Put the knife down, Ivy."

Cain caught my wrist before I could drive the blade into the stone.

Blood smeared across his fingers. The cut between us flared, hot enough to buckle my knees.

I stayed standing.

"Let go."

"You almost opened the altar."

"Maybe I wanted to."

His grip tightened.

Heat pushed through my skin and sank straight into the blood-bond beneath my ribs. The mark answered with one sharp pulse.

Cain dragged me away from the cracked entrance. My boots scraped over loose stone. Behind us, the injured survivor made a wet, broken sound and pressed both hands against his side.

"She's right," he whispered. "Open it. Let it take what it wants."

Cain turned his head.

His eyes went cold.

"You get one more sentence," he said. "Make it useful."

The survivor swallowed. "The key is inside."

My stomach dropped.

"Inside what?"

Cain looked at me instead of answering.

That was answer enough.

Beyond the split doorway, the old altar crouched beneath black roots and fallen stone. Red marks crawled across its surface.