Crimson | Spell Volume 8

“Don’t touch anything,” came the low warning behind him.

The moon hung low over Valdrigal, fractured like old bone. Haldyn pressed his palm against the ruins of the castle gate, feeling the curse pulse beneath the stone. Alive. Hungry. crimson spell volume 8

And the spell screamed.

Haldyn reached for Vald’s hand — the one not stained by claw marks. “Then I’ll write the next page myself.” “Don’t touch anything,” came the low warning behind

He drew his sword not to strike, but to swear. “Don’t touch anything

Haldyn’s throat tightened. “Then we find another way.”

They descended into the chapel where the spell began. The crimson sigils on the walls had changed — twisting into shapes that breathed. In the center, a mirror waited. Not glass. Ice made of frozen blood.