Chapter 94 The Spark Of The Origin Flame

• The ritual had no name. Only an echo. It hadn’t been performed since before flame met prophecy, before wolves learned to shift, before the Mouths tore themselves from the heart of a dying star.
• And now, in the great hall beneath Moonclaw Citadel, it would begin again.
• Lucan lay on the obsidian altar, silent and still. Runes glowed around his body — not with fire, but with something deeper. Origin memory. The kind of light that bent time around its flame.