It wasn't darkness.
Darkness was the absence of light. This was something else—something that swallowed light, that ate it, that made the very concept of seeing irrelevant. Alex blinked, and blinking did nothing. He reached out, and his hand found Granite's fur, and that was the only thing in the universe that felt real.
"Granite—"
"I'm here." The bear's voice was a growl, low and steady. "Don't let go."
The stones at Alex's hip began to hum.
He felt them before he heard them—the familiar resonance of the seven artifacts, the chord they made together that had become so constant he'd stopped noticing it. But now it was changing, shifting, rising in pitch and intensity until the hum became a vibration that shook through his bones.
Light erupted from his pouch.
