Leo’s phone trembled in his hand. “I—what?”
The thing raised an arm, pointing past Leo, back toward the fork. “She chose right.” Into pitch black
In pitch black, one light rules. Two lights make war. Choose your hunger. Leo’s phone trembled in his hand
“I can’t.” She nodded toward the far wall. The phosphorescent thing had arrived, its glow spilling across the chamber. And there, carved into the stone, was an inscription: pointing past Leo