Astraea's POV
Something was wrong. In fact, everything was wrong.
My chest was burning, like someone had lit a fire under my ribs and let it spread. It wasn't the kind of pain I was used to. It wasn't anger, or rage, or even fear, it was deeper than that, like something inside me was being ripped away, little by little.
But I didn't stop.
I grabbed the dagger with trembling fingers and lifted it to my palm. One clean cut and the spell would be complete. I'd find her. I'd track my essence, and I'd find Zephyra, but before the blade could even touch my skin, my hand spasmed violently, and the dagger slipped from my grasp, falling to the ground with an echo that seemed to mock me.
I bent to retrieve it, frustrated and furious, but as soon as I reached for it, I froze.
My fingers passed right through the hilt, almost like I wasn't even there. Like my hand wasn't solid anymore.
I stared at it, at the faint shimmer of skin that was quickly becoming transparent.
