The sudden shift in the air was subtle at first, but Cain felt it before anyone else did.
The crushing pressure that had pinned the hall into silence eased just enough for breath to return, though no one dared straighten their backs.
The ten Blood Ancestors still hovered above their ancient coffins, bald heads gleaming faintly like polished bone beneath the crimson glow of blood sigils.
Their faces were sharp and aged, skin stretched thin over hard skulls, veins like dried roots frozen beneath translucent flesh.
When their eyes moved, it felt as though the room itself was being dragged along with their gaze.
All of them turned toward Cornelia at once.
Cain stiffened beside her, his instincts screaming at him to step forward again, to shield her like before, even though he still did not understand why his body kept betraying his thoughts.
