"How do you know it?" Morcal demanded. "How do you know my name?"
Fray's gaze remained steady, cold and unreadable. He wasn't in the mood for questions.
"I didn't summon you to answer your questions," he said flatly.
The crow's feathers bristled. The atmosphere tightened.
"You dare speak to me like this?" Morcal hissed. "Do you know who I am, mortal? ."
His form shimmered, wings briefly extending to twice their size. Energy crackled through the air like lightning searching for a target.
Fray met his gaze without flinching. He knew exactly who Morcal was.
After Luke looked down on the Dalma family and stole the legendary weapon, he uncovered a hidden truth about it—Morcal, the guardian spirit of the gate. Morcal wasn't just a passive protector; he was the one who enforced the sacred contract between spirits and their hosts. If either side broke the pact, Morcal had the power to punish them.
