Chapter 313: Edge of the Withering Vale, Oblivion
Samuel's POV
The rain from the Human World clung to Owen's cloak as he stepped through the breach. The raw scent of storm still clung to him, and his eyes carried the weight of something more than just memory.
Henry and I were leaning against the jagged ridge overlooking the Vale, where the dying winds of Oblivion whispered in dead tongues. He didn't speak at first. Just handed me the obsidian case.
I caught it in one hand, feeling the faint hum of power run up my wrist.
"You got it," I said.
He nodded. "She gave her word. I gave mine."
Henry blinked, glancing between us. "Wait. Yvette Jennings gave you the scroll without a blood contract or throwing a knife at your face first?"
Owen didn't answer. He just dropped down on the nearest slab of stone and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"...What did she ask for in return?" I asked.
"A favor," Owen muttered. "One I can't refuse. One she'll cash in when it's convenient—for her."
Henry let out a low whistle. "That woman terrifies me more than the Queen of Teeth."