Davies’ POV

The first thing I noticed when consciousness clawed its way back into me was the cold. It was not the kind that bites at skin or rattles bones, this one was stale, and heavy.

It felt like the kind of cold that lived inside the walls, a cold that whispered that hope had no business here.

My wrists burned with chains that were not ordinary. I could feel the faint prickle of spell-metal, an alloy forged with ground obsidian, raven bone, and cursed blood.

The chain was used by witches or Seekers.

My jaw tightened at the word; Seekers. Because it meant everything I feared was already in...