The air rippled—space itself seemed to tear as Damon felt the visceral sensation of death…
And just before the absolute sensation of death could reach them—
The chains and the runes on the ground flared, glowing in harsh, ancient light as they yanked the Liberian down like a puppet meeting its strings.
The ground trembled violently.
Damon hadn't even moved. It had been fast—so fast. The air in the forbidden library had only begun to shift after the movement had finished, as if reality lagged behind it.
As if stunned, Damon slowly lowered his head, his gaze falling upon the runes etched into the stone and the iron chains linked to the tens of ancient, cursed swords impaled through the librarian's grotesque body.
He hadn't seen it before—not with the heavy hood masking its features—but now, as the chains dragged the supposedly dead librarian lower, his face emerged into the light.
