Vesper

>>Aelin

The room was carved in obsidian and deep maroon stone, the shadows caught in every crevice like whispers that didn't want to be heard. I sat beside Draegon at the table, my fingers loosely clasped in my lap. Drakkar, Draken, Ariston, and several demon advisors sat around us, the air heavy with something more than formality.

Tension had a shape here—like a low hum I could feel in my bones. Since the gate opened days ago, no one had truly rested.

Not even Draegon.

The massive map of the demon lands was sprawled across the center of the table. A red mark had been drawn outside the walls of the palace—right at the edge of the forest. That's where the last gate had opened. That's where the ground had splintered and black rot had begun to spread beneath the trees.

And where, we now feared, countless people had been sacrificed in blood rites to fuel it.