Asterion straightened, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the wake of this discovery. He was waiting for me to call it. Waiting for me to decide what came next.
I took one last look at the runes carved into the Harbinger's ribs, at the undeniable proof that this wasn't over. That we weren't just dealing with a fragmented cult or a city-wide disaster.
We were chasing something far more deliberate.
The wind howled through the ruins, carrying the faint, acrid scent of leyline burn. The silence that followed was heavier than before, no longer the quiet of an ended battle, but the waiting hush before something far worse.
Asterion's jaw tightened, his voice grim.
"Then who the hell are we really fighting?"
The implications were vast.
