The mirror pulsed.
Vald stepped past him into the dark corridor. His footsteps made no sound. That was new. Or old, Haldyn thought. Something the sword took from him and never gave back. crimson spell volume 8
He drew his sword not to strike, but to swear. The mirror pulsed
He turned. Prince Vald stood with his cloak torn, one arm wrapped in blood-soaked linen. His eyes still flickered gold at the edges — the demon’s remnants watching from inside. crimson spell volume 8
Vald stopped before it.
They descended into the chapel where the spell began. The crimson sigils on the walls had changed — twisting into shapes that breathed. In the center, a mirror waited. Not glass. Ice made of frozen blood.