The place where they gathered did not exist on any map.
It lay between borders—between ley lines, between sovereignties, between rules that governed the mortal world and those that had long since been bent. The cavern had once been a cathedral of stone, hollowed deep beneath a mountain whose name had been erased from memory. Now it was something older. Something repurposed.
Black crystal jutted from the walls like broken ribs, pulsing faintly with corrupted magic. A circular table of obsidian dominated the chamber, its surface etched with sigils that shifted when no one looked directly at them.
Six figures stood around it.
Not allies.
Not equals.
But conspirators bound by a single shared desire:
The destruction of the Bloodstone Pack.
The end of Crystal Hale’s bloodline.
And, if t
