The Weight of Shadows

POV: Luna

The incense smoke danced in silver spirals beneath the tent's ceiling, drawing fleeting runes that only I could read. The candles flickered, uneasy, as if they knew what was coming. Ignis lay on the ground, drenched in cold sweat, his fists clenched around the edges of the blanket like anchors against the tides of his own mind. The elixir I had given him—a blend of black dragon root and siren's tears—was taking effect. His eyelids trembled, caught between sleep and wakefulness, while the grimoire in his backpack emitted a low hum, like the purring of a hungry cat.

"You shouldn't do this," Arkhan whispered from the entrance, his voice a murmur between the shadows.

"Shut up," I replied without looking at him, tracing a containment rune in the air with my index finger. The mark glowed with a bluish light before sinking into Ignis' chest. "He needs to see."