Thalion felt it.
A disturbance in the air, thin as a spider's thread but unmistakable. It pressed against his skin, crawled into his lungs, coiled around his spine. Something unholy was about to transpire—something that made even the Bleak Marrow's twisted atmosphere recoil.
It was familiar.
He had felt something like this before. When he tried to invade Jason's mind. When his magic slid off the creature's consciousness like water off stone. When something inside Jason had pushed back.
Thalion's blood ran cold.
"Jason followed me."
Panic seized his chest. His hands trembled. His heart—the elf's heart, not his own—pounded against his ribs like a caged animal.
No. No, no, no. Jason couldn't be here. Not now. Not when Thalion was so close to—
