The night air carried the whisper of rustling leaves, the distant crackle of the dying fire, and the rhythmic breaths of Rage as he slept beside her. Ingrid should have felt safe, but something was wrong. A chill prickled at her spine, her heartbeat quickening as a foreign presence pressed against the edges of her consciousness.
Then, the whispers began.
Soft at first, like a breeze through hollow bones. Then louder. Urgent. Insidious.
"You think you've won? Foolish girl. You only delay the inevitable."
Ingrid sat up abruptly, her fingers instinctively clutching the crystal pendant around her neck. It pulsed faintly, its blue glow flickering like a dying star.
The shadows at the edge of their campsite thickened, writhing as if alive. She swallowed hard, her pulse hammering against her ribs. Druig's presence was stronger than ever, a coiled force pressing against the barriers she had so painstakingly built.