NINE MINUTES LATER
Serena's eyes were pink and she was speaking in that ancient tongue again, the language that carved the air like a blade and sat in the ears like a hymn from a civilization that had been dead for ten thousand years.
Gavriel's head turned towards Serena, slow, the same involuntary rotation that had happened in the cavern.
"Open the path that remembers our blood," he said. His voice was distant. Detached. The words coming from a place in his brain that he had never accessed voluntarily and whose accessing was becoming a pattern and the pattern was producing a dread that was sitting in his stomach like a stone.
