Where the Blood Lies

Previously

…He took a step back, his expression unreadable. The air crackled with an unseen tension. He had expected fear, despair, perhaps even surrender. He had not expected defiance. “This is not over,” he said, his voice a low growl. “No,” I agreed, clutching the journal like a weapon. “It’s just beginning.” As he melted back into the shadows, I stood alone on the stage, the dust motes dancing in the faint light. The theatre was silent again, but it was a different kind of silence now. It was a silence pregnant with anticipation, with the knowledge that the game had indeed begun. And I, Elara Vance, the last surviving thread, was ready to play.