Simon stopped at the bottom of the staircase.
He didn't take another step.
The cellar smelled of damp stone and old blood. Beneath both, so faint that he barely noticed it, there was also something sweet.
Veyra's head hung low. Her breathing was shallow and uneven, and her green eyes struggled to stay focused on him.
"It's… a trap…" she rasped.
"Hmm," Simon hummed with furrowed brows.
The skin on his forehead split open and his third eye opened at its center. The silver cross within it glowed with a cold light, and a dull ache spread behind his brow.
The cellar changed before his eyes.
The red strands of demonic energy in the room became clearer and sharper, and he could see exactly how they were arranged.
