The central spire of the Sunless City didn't just climb toward the sky; it pierced through the very idea of light. It was a needle of polished obsidian, vibrating with a low hum that pulled the freezing mists of the canyon upward in a massive vortex.
The climb had been a nightmare. Damon led the way with his glowing silver sword, while Arkon used his last bits of energy to float the heavy granite slab up through the spire's dark shafts. Kassian walked at the back, his eyes fixed on the violet phantom drifting beside her own stone body.
Vera was silent. Ever since that kiss in the lower chamber—the one that broke the laws of life—her spirit form had been flickering. The cold logic of the Heart of Boreas was losing to the hot, raw memory of Kassian's mouth. His promise still echoed in her mind.
I'm going to fuck the frost right out of your soul.
