Crown of Midnight

There were gouges in the stone wall where the ridderak had come crashing through, chasing her down to the tomb, until she’d just barely reached Damaris, sword of the long-dead King Gavin, in time to slay the monster. After him flowed a wake of glowing green Wyrdmarks, their strange shapes and symbols illuminating the ancient blocks of stone. Chaol had only enough time to release his sword as she lunged, swiping for his face with a hand. When she was at last convinced that nothing was getting through the door—in either direction—she loosed a long breath.