Seconds later,

Author

Aria had taken barely three more steps toward the great ironwood doors, her hand already lifting to close around the heavy silver latch, when the entire hall shuddered.

It was not a rumble, not a tremor - it was a blow, as if some giant hand had struck the building from outside. The heavy ironbound doors blew open with a deafening crash that shook dust down from the rafters and sent the banners flapping wildly against the walls.

The wind howled in, sharp and biting, carrying the scent of frost and old iron and something far older, far darker, than any wolf or witch or magic that...