The chasm twisted deeper, a labyrinth of red-lit stone where the Citadel's runes bled black ichor, their whispers a chorus of the damned.
Magnus led, his sword raised, its wolf-blood runes pulsing faintly, a fragile ward against the suffocating hunger of the place. His scar throbbed, the shard's call a heartbeat that echoed in his bones, urging the curse to consume him.
Kiera flanked him, her leg bound but her daggers steady, her silver-flecked eyes scanning the shadows for Isabella's vampires. Veyne hung over her shoulder, her amber eyes half-open, runes dim but pulsing with stubborn life. Jakob followed, clutching a salvaged vampire fang as a makeshift blade, his breath ragged, fear etched in his sweat-streaked face.
Talia moved ahead, her raven-feather tattoos glowing, her curved blade glinting as the ravens guided her steps, their caws a map through the twisting stone.
Gavrek trailed, his claws scraping, amber eyes flickering with pain and defiance, the Suldari curse a shadow that clung to him.
Ragnar brought up the rear, his warhammer's weight shaking the ground, steel-gray eyes locked on Magnus, hunger for the Key burning brighter than his scars.
The air grew thick, heavy with the scent of ash and blood, the shard's pulse a fire in Magnus's scar. He fought the beast within, its claws scratching at his restraint, whispering of power, of godhood.
Talia's voice broke the silence, low and urgent, her eyes shimmering red. "The shard's in the Veil—a chamber where the Citadel's heart breathes. The Suldari sealed it with blood. Only blood can open it."
Magnus's growl was primal, his amber eyes piercing her. "Whose blood, warden?"
Talia hesitated, her gaze flickering to the ravens, their crimson eyes unblinking. "The First Howl's heir… or its kin. The Citadel demands a sacrifice."
Gavrek's snarl echoed, his claws flexing, black blood crusting his fur. "She means you, Varik. Or me. The Suldari's curse binds us both to this place."
Ragnar's warhammer swung, grazing a rune on the wall, sparks erupting. "Enough talk," he rumbled, his voice a forge's bellow. "I'll spill whatever blood it takes to claim the Key."
Kiera's daggers flashed, her body coiled, pain forgotten in her defiance. "Try it, Iron Fang, and you'll choke on your own."
The chasm narrowed, its walls closing like the jaws of a beast, the runes flaring brighter, their black ichor dripping like tears.
A scream tore through the air—not human, not wolf, but Lysara's, her voice a ghost born of the Citadel's will. A shadow moved ahead, cloaked in bone and vine, her moon-eyes reborn in a shimmering, half-corporeal form. Her raven-skull staff, reformed, glowed red, its light pulsing with the chasm's heartbeat.
"Lysara," Magnus snarled, sword raised, the curse a wildfire in his veins. "You're not done haunting us."
Her laugh was a storm, her form flickering, vines curling like tendrils of smoke. "The Citadel remakes me, Varik. The Veil demands your blood—give it, or your pack burns in its fire."
Gavrek lunged, claws slashing at Lysara, but she vanished, her staff striking the ground, runes erupting in flames that scorched his fur.
The chasm shook, stone cracking, and the Veil appeared—a massive gate of bone and obsidian, its surface carved with wolves tearing men apart, their eyes glowing with the shard's red pulse.
Talia's ravens dove, clawing the gate, and it groaned, a seam splitting, black ichor weeping like a wound.
"Blood," Talia whispered, her blade cutting her palm, red mixing with black on the stone. "Now, Varik."
Magnus's scar screamed, the beast clawing free, fur sprouting, claws lengthening. He slashed his arm, blood dripping onto the gate, and it roared, the seam widening, red light blinding.
Ragnar charged, warhammer raised, but Lysara reappeared, her staff slamming him back, flames searing his chest. Kiera hurled a dagger, grazing Lysara's vine-armor, black blood spraying. Gavrek tackled her, claws raking her shoulder, their struggle a storm of fire and fang.
The gate yawned wider, the shard's pulse deafening, a void that called to Magnus's soul. Isabella's scent—roses and death—flooded the chasm, her silver eyes glinting from within the Veil.
The pack surged forward, blood and fire entwining, the Citadel's hunger a living force that threatened to swallow them all.