Raven Blackwood's Arc

Chapter 62 of 11

Raven read the first line of the ritual aloud. The crystal beside the altar flared. A thread of light shot from the stone into the crack where the blood-crystal sword stood. Down in the rock, the creature woke. It did not wait for the spell. It slammed against the seal from below. The floor cracked. A blast of cold air tore through the room. The blood-crystal sword jerked in the stone, half an inch loose. Through the gap, one blood-red eye opened and fixed on Raven. "It feels the ritual," Florence said. She pressed both crystals flat to the floor. Her arms shook. "It knows what you're doing. It's trying to break free before you finish." A claw forced through the crack. Black fur, purple runes glowing along the limb. The sword tilted. One more push and the seal would shatter, and the beast would come up starving and awake, past killing by the spell. Vlad drew nothing — his sword was already in the crack. He threw his body against the loose hilt and shoved it back down. "I can hold the blade," he said. "I cannot hold the seal." The altar room door opened. Winter walked in. Floor-length red hair, a golden cloak stitched with runes. She was the witch who had held the seal before, who had come across the mountains because she felt the thing stir. Behind her came two women in black, twin crowns of dark crystal on their heads. Umbra and Nyx. "We felt it wake from the valley," Winter said. She did not slow. "Finish your spell, hunter. We will hold it still." The three witches raised their hands as one. White light cracked between them like lightning and poured into the crack. The creature screamed and stopped pushing. The sword settled. The claw froze mid-air. "Now," Winter said through her teeth. "We cannot hold long." Raven grabbed the ritual paper. She read fast, line after line, the words she had carried three weeks through snow. The crystal conduit burned white and fed the spell down the tether into the beast. The red eye in the crack went wide. The runes along its limb dimmed. The creature was dying. She felt it through the stone under her hand, the hunger draining out of it. "The last word," Florence said. "Say it now. While it dies, not after." Raven leaned over the crack. The eye met hers, blood-red, failing. She spoke the final word of the spell straight into it. The light swallowed the room. The scream cut off. The claw crumbled to ash and fell back into the dark. The blood-crystal sword went black and slid free of the stone. Then quiet. The floor was warm no more. Florence lifted a crystal and read it. "Nothing," she said. "No seal. No breath. It's gone." Raven stood over an empty crack in cold stone. The thing beneath the castle was dead. The tome had nothing left to feed.