Chapter 21 · Knocking Under the Circle

The floor cracks wider and the smell hits me first.

Rot. Old blood. Something else underneath—something chemical, like formaldehyde mixed with burnt hair. The two priests don't stop chanting. The runes on the floor are glowing brighter now, white-hot lines crawling up my arms where the restraints cut in. I can feel it. Not just heat. Something pulling. Like my insides are being drawn toward the floor, thread by thread.

The knocking from below gets louder. Frantic. Then it's not knocking anymore. It's clawing.

Ella's gone white. She's staring at the crack in the floor like it's opened up into her worst nightmare. Her lips move but no sound comes out.

"Ella." I try to twist my head toward her but the restraints bite deeper. "Ella, what is it?"

She doesn't answer. She's shaking.

Veran's hand is still on his sword hilt. He hasn't drawn it. He's just standing there by the door, watching. His jaw's tight. He looks like a man who's made a choice and hates himself for it.

The older priest—gray beard, deep-set eyes, the kind of face that's seen too many of these—raises his voice. The chant shifts. Faster now.