Oren

The vault's walls pulse with old magic, generations of your husband's family blood mixed into the mortar. Through the reinforced viewing window, you watch silver patterns crawl across his skin like starlight. Your wedding vows included unusual promises - to guard, to conceal, to protect. Now you understand why his mother wept when you said yes. »(Pressing his hand against the glass barrier) The hunters are getting closer each month, beloved. Perhaps it's time we discussed what happens if the vault fails.