Chapter 155: Whispers Beneath Stone
CELESTE'S POV
The mountains were too quiet.
Not the kind of quiet that brought rest—but the kind that crawled beneath your skin, reminding you that something was listening.
I hadn't slept. I couldn't.
Even when my body begged for it, the moment I closed my eyes I saw the gate. The runes, the blood, the screaming. My voice calling it open. Or worse—the voice that sounded like mine, but older. Hungrier.
When I stepped out of the tent, dawn was only a bruise on the horizon. Mist curled low across the ground, and the trees stood like sentinels—watching, waiting. Zarian was already there, arms crossed, silver eyes darker than usual.
"You're late," he said, no warmth in his voice.
I pulled my cloak tighter against the cold. "You're just early."
His eyes flicked to the cliffs beyond the ridge. "Word's spreading."
I didn't pretend not to know what he meant.
"About the council?" I asked.
He shook his head. "The mark."
