The last enchantress of the underworld

resolve. It wasn't the deep, resonant dread of the Hunger, but something sharp, familiar

escaping her lips. Dante's brow furr

ing....just a headache " A lie, and a poor one at that. The voice, the name i

d, his gaze sharp and assessi

und more convincing than she felt.

in....in such dire strait", replayed in her mind, each syllable dripping with a malevolent familiar

t, but his eyes held a flicker of suspicion. He was a man who

u need to tell me what we're facing.

ritual ", she began, her voice still slightly unsteady. A binding ceremony that requires specific arti

ut through her fear. He was a man of action, a

mited knowledge pressing down on her. "My grandmother only spoke of

iently. "So we're c

, Elara retorted, a sharp e

ic was feared and destroyed. Because we were the only o

is expression serious. "Think. Anything. Any clue your grandmothe

er grandmother's stories told in the flicking candlelight. Images flashed through her mind: ancient text

a key", she said slowly, her

that could

itual. It was said to be tied to our bloodlines a ph

s the key?",

in the head....its mocking tone, the way it had spoken her name.... it wasn'

empty space beneath her collarbone. "An amulet my grandmother gave

e it?" Dante's

taken from me.... years ago", a bitter memory surfaced__a shadowy

time, laced with triumph. "Looking for something,

ts intricate silver work pulsing with a faint, dark energy

demanded, his eyes n

was barely a

present. Silas Thorne. A rogue mage, obsessed with forbidden knowledge, and

told her he was very much alive. And somehow,