The forest no longer whispered secrets. It roared with them.
Aria stood in the moonlight, her fingers trembling where they clutched the edge of her cloak. The sky above bled silver and violet, the winds humming with magic thick enough to choke her lungs. Somewhere behind her, the Circle prepared for another siege—but none of that mattered right now.
What mattered was the war inside her.
For days since the Mirror Gate cracked and her twisted reflection had spoken through the veil, Aria had felt the shift. It wasn't just that her powers were stronger. They were colder. Hungrier. Sometimes, when she healed a wound, the skin would knit too fast, leaving no scar, no trace of what had once been. Other times, her voice would echo even after she'd stopped speaking. Her reflection in water wouldn't move when she did. And worst of all, her wolf had grown restless, snarling whenever Aria looked too long in the mirror.
She hadn't told Caleb yet. Not fully. Not the way she needed to.
