My hands trembled as Alaric stared at the serpent sigil carved into the ancient sarcophagus. His face had drained of all color, jaw clenched so tight I feared his teeth might crack.
"This can't be possible," he whispered, tracing the coiled snake with his fingertip. "In my family's crypt..."
I wrapped my arms around myself, fighting a chill that had nothing to do with the cool air of the underground chamber. "I thought you should see it immediately. The symbol is identical to what Mistress Sterling described—the mark of the Shadowed Hand."
Alaric's eyes met mine, and I saw something I'd rarely witnessed in him before. Fear. Raw and undisguised.
"The Abbess's warning takes on a new meaning now," he said, his voice hollow. "The true Serpent still sleeps... not just an external threat but something connected to my own bloodline."
I moved closer, touching his arm gently. "We don't know that for certain."
