Chapter 45. Whispers of Shadow

The hush that filled the chamber no longer felt like a void to be feared—it seemed almost alive, as though it were inhaling and exhaling with a deliberate, patient rhythm. Lora sat cross-legged upon the cool, flat surface of the basalt slab, her back held straight but relaxed, her palms resting lightly atop her knees.

Time had lost all meaning; she couldn’t swear whether a few hours or several days had drifted by since she first settled here, attentive only to the fading glow of the coals at her feet. Now, though, those embers had long since cooled to dull gray ash, and the runic glyphs carved into the walls, once flickering with restless urgency, had quieted to a slow, languid pulse, as if they too were gathering their strength in the face of something vast and inevitable.

Gone was the oppressive heat that had made her shirt cling to her back and left tiny beads of sweat along her hairline. The air had softened, cooled almost imperceptibly, and even the stones underfoo