Aira stepped out of the basement, the sound of her boots echoing faintly off the stone as she sheathed the blade in her hand. Her expression was tight—sharp with focus, weighed down by what she'd just witnessed. The air above felt clearer, but it did little to ease the heaviness in her chest.
Her eyes flicked toward the horizon as she crossed the outer court of the temple, every sense sharpened, wary of the shadows that lurked even beneath sunlight. The last thing she wanted was to be ambushed by another of the Zygons—those shape-shifting wretches that had infiltrated places once considered sacred.
Seraphina's warning echoed in her mind. They attacked her even within temple walls.
That single truth had unsettled Aira more than she'd care to admit. If Zygons could reach Seraphina—one of the strongest among them—then nowhere was truly safe.
