Third-person POV

The black sun of the ritual day rose like a bruise in the sky.

Clouds churned in unnatural spirals above the Seekers’ fortress, thick with magic as the air trembled with the pressure of a spell that had taken decades to perfect.

The ground itself hummed, low, eerie and vibrating like the slow pulse of a dying beast.

The scent of sulfur and burnt herbs drifted through the battlefield, where hundreds of hooded Seekers moved in coordinated circles around their towering stone altar.

On it lay the child.

Davies’ son, small and still, was bound by glowing sigils that clung to his skin like living scars.

The elderly...