The crystal gave a second, sharper tremor, and this time the sound was unmistakable. It was not stone groaning, nor metal flexing, nor the old architecture settling under its own age. It was a voice, low enough to be half swallowed by the chamber, but clear enough to chill every person present.
"At last."
Fang's fingers tightened around Ren's hand so suddenly that Ren turned towards him at once.
Pax swore under his breath. "That is not reassuring."
Silas, however, went very still.
The colour drained from the old archivist's face in a way that made him look suddenly, briefly, far older than he had a moment ago. His hand remained braced against the table, but the knuckles had gone pale.
Ren noticed immediately. "You know that voice."
Silas did not answer at once.
