Chapter 97 The Dead Man's Hour

• Leona’s POV
• The wind in the ruins whispered forgotten names. I stood at the Cradle of Echoes, an old amphitheatre where Horizon once held dark rituals. Above me, the stars blinked weakly, and below, the cracked stones beneath my feet vibrated with memories of the past.
• Marcella knelt beside a blackened circle in the centre, clearing away ash with a gloved hand. "It’s not a grave," she said softly. "It’s a seal. Someone locked paintt here."