Chapter 25 · The Voice in the Tower

"Don't touch anything."

Calder's claw closed around my wrist before I could reach the glowing rune etched into the tower wall. His grip was warm, almost too warm, and I could feel the tremor running through his stone fingers.

"I wasn't going to," I lied.

"You were leaning."

"I was looking."

"Same thing with you." He pulled me back a step, and the chain between us went taut. The cuff hummed, counting down. We had maybe an hour left. Maybe less.

The tower's interior smelled like old copper and something burnt I couldn't name. Every surface crawled with runes—some carved deep, some painted in what looked like dried blood. The floor was a mosaic of shattered ward-stones, and in the center stood a pedestal holding a single piece of parchment.

"That's it," I said. "That's the clue."

"Or a trap."

"Everything's a trap with you."

"Everything's been a trap so far." Calder's eye swept the room, his broken wings half-spread. One of them scraped the wall, and a shower of dust rained down. "This place wasn't built for guests."

"It was built for someone.