Claire’s POV

Damian moved before I could, stepping in front of me as he drew his sword. Steel rasped against the sheath, the sound carrying down the stone passage.

Ivy did not even look at him.

She tore her burned arm free of its strapping and pressed the raw underside of her wrist against the blackened crescent. Pain tightened her face, but she held it there.

The crescent flared beneath her skin.

Darkness spilled from the grooves and divided as it reached Damian, streaming around both sides of his boots before joining again behind me.

He turned as the strand coiled around my waist. His hand caught my sleeve, but...