Page 216 of Marked By His Hunger

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Purple flames consumed her skin—not burning—but transforming.

Her eyes—they were not entirely hers.

Time layered over her like a second body.

Sicily.

Blood.

Chains.

Pain.

And beneath it all—power.

Raw.

Uncontrolled.

Ancient.

“She’s gone too deep!” Bannerman shouted.

“I can see that,” Professor Kenna replied sharply from the far side of the room, her voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.

But she did not step forward.

She waited.

Watched.

For me.

Of course she did.

“You know what to do, Draugr,” she said.

I already moved.

The ghosts lunged at me as I crossed the room, drawn to the same power that anchored Serena. Claws of memory and regret scraped against my skin, trying to pull me into their hunger—I roared at them.

The sound tore through them like a war horn.

They scattered.

Not gone.

Never gone.

But they recognized something in me.

Something they would not challenge.

Death answered death.

And I was older than most of what she had summoned.

I reached her.

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