"Don't touch that." Rhett's voice cracked through the smoke as Savannah knelt beside the scorched sigil embedded in the cavern floor. Her fingers hovered inches from the blackened stone, trembling with equal parts fear and curiosity. The moment she heard his tone, she froze, but not before sensing something old stir beneath her skin.
"It's not just a mark," she said. "It's humming. Like it's alive."
Rhett stepped forward, boots scraping ash across the cracked stone. His jaw was set, the bruising on his neck deeper now, spreading like ink under skin. The confrontation with Lucia's followers had left him wounded in more ways than one. He looked at the symbol, a blazing, jagged crest half-erased by time and scorched blood. Its edges still glowed faintly, reacting to Savannah's nearness.
"That's because it is alive," he muttered. "It's part of the oath. One of the first rites performed by the Hollowfang Circle. Before Sterling silenced them."
