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Rowen's lips curved in amusement. "The angels aren't quite that barbaric, little one. They save their cruelty for more... creative endeavors."

Something in his tone made me think there was a story there, but Archer was already opening the book, turning pages with careful precision until he found what he was looking for.

"Here," he said, spinning the book to face me. "This passage discusses the transformation ritual. Callum and I have been struggling with the translation, certain phrases could mean several different things."

I looked down at the page and felt that now-familiar sensation, a buzzing energy starting at the base of my skull and spreading through my mind. The strange symbols on the page should have been incomprehensible, yet somehow I knew exactly what they meant.

"Ready?" Archer asked, pen poised over his notepad.

I nodded, took a deep breath, and began to read the translation aloud.

"When shadow meets starlight, the hidden shall be revealed. The weapon born of both worlds sleeps until awakened by blood of the heavens freely given." My voice sounded different to my own ears, deeper somehow, resonant with power I didn't understand. "The vessel must be pure, cleansed in the fires of creation and bathed in the tears of the fallen."

Archer motioned for me to pause, scribbling rapidly on his notepad. He muttered something under his breath, then gestured for me to continue.

"Three must stand as one. Lord of darkness, child of shadow, and heaven's forsaken champion. Their power combined shall break the seal, but beware: What sleeps within answers only to the worthy." I continued reading, the words flowing from my lips as naturally as if I'd spoken this language my entire life.

Archer stopped me again, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scratched out a line on his notepad and rewrote something.

"Can you read that paragraph again?" he asked, tapping his pen against the table. "Focus especially on the part about 'the vessel must be pure.'"

I nodded, returning my attention to the glowing text. "The vessel must be pure, cleansed in the fires of creation and bathed in the tears of the fallen. Only then can it contain the light without shattering."

As I spoke the words again, the meaning seemed to shift, becoming clearer. "No. It's not 'tears of the fallen.' It's... 'essence of the fallen.' And 'fires of creation' is more like... 'the forge of creation.'"

Archer's eyes narrowed. "Say the entire passage one more time. Slowly."

I took another deep breath and focused entirely on the swirling symbols before me. This time, they seemed to pulse with each word I spoke, as if responding to my voice.

"When shadow meets starlight, the hidden shall be revealed. The weapon born of both worlds sleeps until awakened by blood of the heavens freely given. The vessel must be pure, cleansed in the forge of creation and bathed in the essence of the fallen. Three must stand as one. Lord of darkness, child of shadow, and heaven's forsaken champion. Their power combined shall break the seal, but beware: What sleeps within answers only to the worthy."

Archer froze, his pen hovering above the page. Then, in a sudden burst of movement, he leaped from his chair, sending it clattering backward onto the stone floor.

"That's it!" he exclaimed, his normally controlled expression replaced by excitement. "I know what we have to do!" His ice-blue eyes were bright, almost feverish, as he looked at each of us in turn.

"The vessel isn't Lightsbane. It's me. I'm the vessel that needs to be cleansed! And the 'forge of creation'—that has to refer tothe fires at the heart of the underworld, in the deepest level where Rowen forged his crown. Where his father was born."

He turned to Rowen, practically vibrating with energy. "The 'essence of the fallen'—that's angel blood, but not just any angel blood. It has to be from one who fell from grace."

"Like your mother," Callum said softly.

Archer nodded sharply. "And the three who must stand as one. It's us. Rowen, the lord of darkness. Callum, child of shadow. And me, heaven's forsaken champion." A wild grin spread across his face as the pieces fell into place.

"We can do this," he said, looking at me with such hope that I felt my own spirits lifting in response. "We can transform Lightsbane into Lightbringer, and then we can kill the Shadow Beast once and for all."

For the first time since the Beast had attacked me, I felt something other than fear and uncertainty. As I looked at the three powerful beings surrounding me, each so determined to protect what was theirs, hope bloomed in my chest like a fragile, precious flower.

42

Sierra

"We need to plan this carefully," Rowen said, his obsidian eyes focused and intense as he paced the length of the library. "The forge isn't something to be taken lightly."

I stifled a yawn as I watched them discuss the ritual. My body felt heavy, the events of the past few days catching up with me despite my determination to stay alert. The throbbing pain in my lower abdomen had dulled to a persistent ache, but fatigue had settled deep in my bones.

"How hot is this forge exactly?" Archer asked, his ice-blue eyes narrowed in concentration. He'd stopped twirling his daggers, a sign of how focused he was on the task at hand.

Rowen's tail twitched irritably behind him. "Hot enough to melt celestial metal. Hot enough that even full-blooded demons don't venture there without protection."