Chapter 21 · The New Order's Altar

"Drop the ward-breaker's kit, Mara. Or I’ll let the Core fry your brain before you even touch the seal."

Sera’s voice didn’t echo; it sliced. She was standing ten feet away, her silhouette framed by the shimmering, violent violet light of the city’s heart. The air here didn’t just smell like ozone—it tasted like burnt copper and old blood.

I didn't drop the kit. I gripped the brass casing harder, my knuckles white. Beside me, Lucan was shaking. Not from fear—from the curse. Every few seconds, a jagged black vein would pulse up his neck, threatening to snap. He looked like a glass sculpture that had been shattered and glued back together by someone who hated him.

"You’re not taking him," I spat. "Not after what you did to Noah."

Sera laughed, a dry, clinical sound. She stepped forward, the heels of her boots clicking against the obsidian floor. "Noah is a variable, Mara. A leverage point. You, however, are a tool. A very talented, very desperate tool. Now, step away from the heir, or I’ll trigger the resonance. We both know your mind can’t handle the feedback."

Lucan’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist.