Chapter 8 · The Seventh Blood Bell

The floor split open under my feet.

I grabbed Dorian's arm and yanked us both back as stone cracked down the center of the vault. The sound was wet, wrong, like bone breaking under pressure. Red light poured out of the widening seam, and I smelled blood. Old blood. The kind that's been sitting in a jar too long.

"Don't look down," I hissed at Dorian. "Whatever's down there, don't—"

But he was already staring. His face had gone gray, and the marks on his neck were crawling again, black veins spreading up toward his jaw. The curse liked whatever it saw.

"Nessa." His voice came out flat. Empty. "How long have you known?"

"Known what?"

"That you're the key."

I opened my mouth. Closed it. The mark on my wrist burned hot enough to blister, and across the city I heard screaming. Distant. Everywhere. The seventh bell was still ringing in my skull, and every sigil maker in Veyra was probably hearing it too.

PRIMARY VESSEL.

That's what the vault called me. Not criminal. Not thief. Vessel.

"I didn't know," I said. "I don't even know what that means."

Dorian laughed. It sounded like glass breaking. "You don't know.