The air inside Blackthorn Keep carried a weight that no torchlight could chase away. Every corridor hummed with restless footsteps, wolves moving in constant patrols, messengers dashing between wings of the fortress, voices clipped and urgent. The Flameborn crown had awakened, and its power radiated through the walls like a second heartbeat. Everyone could feel it.
Aria walked the war corridors beside Tobias, the obsidian box pressed against her chest. Though its seals still held, the heat leaking from the crown made her palms burn. She couldn't tell if it was real or simply the whispers again, trying to brand themselves into her flesh.
"You should let me carry it," Tobias said evenly, though his eyes betrayed the unease beneath his control.
Aria shook her head. "It reacts less when I hold it."
"Or it's sinking deeper into you."
She flinched. Tobias immediately softened, his hand brushing her elbow. "I didn't mean—"
"Yes, you did," she whispered. "And you're right."
