The bell's echo had barely faded before the Gate's outer wall shuddered. Dust rained from the cavern ceiling.
"Positions!" the old man barked. The robed figures scattered, some sprinting toward balconies, others to the rune-laced ballistae mounted on the bridges.
Zain froze. "What do I do?"
The girl yanked him toward a balcony. "Stay alive. That's step one."
The Gate of Runes flared with blinding light—then cracked down the middle. A wave of black mist poured in, coiling like snakes. From it emerged the Shadow keeper's, their visors burning with crimson slits.
The nearest robed guard loosed a spear of white fire, vaporizing two attackers. But more came, slipping through the mist like it was part of them.
The girl drew her mercury blade, slicing through one with a hiss. "Zain, the mark! Use it!"
"I don't even know how!" he shouted, ducking as a Shadowkeeper's claw smashed the stone rail.
"Think about the crystal!" she yelled back. "Remember the rhythm!"
Dum. Dum. Dum.
The pulse in his chest grew sharper, each beat burning through his veins.
One Shadow keeper's lunged, claws outstretched. Instinct took over. Zain raised his hand—and a burst of golden light exploded from his palm, throwing the creature backward in a smoking heap.
He stared at his hand, trembling. "I… I didn't mean to—"
"No one ever does," the girl said, cutting down another. "Welcome to magic."
The old man's voice boomed from the central tower. "Fall back to the inner bridge! Protect the Keyholder!"
But the mist was faster, curling across the stone and blocking their retreat. Shapes began to rise from it—taller, broader, their forms wrong in ways Zain's eyes didn't want to understand.
The girl grabbed his arm. "We can't fight these. We run. Now."
Another tremor shook the cavern. Far above, something massive shifted in the shadows.
And then Zain heard it
—deep, ancient, and furious.
A roar.