The red eyes didn't blink.
Victor stared into the dark behind the throne, every instinct in his body screaming the same thing at once. Whatever those eyes belonged to, it made the skeleton in front of him look small by comparison, and the Guardian had just come close to killing him without breaking a sweat.
"What is that?" Victor asked.
The Guardian didn't answer immediately. Its grip on the sword had tightened, knuckles of bone pressed white against the hilt.
"Something that should have stayed asleep for another century," it finally said. "Something you woke, the moment you touched the wall above."
Victor's stomach dropped. The carving. The pulse beneath his fingers. The ten percent that had ticked onto his hidden quest without warning.
"That was me?"
"Yes."
"Great," Caleb muttered from somewhere behind him. "Fantastic. Love that for us."
