The night trembled under the blood moon's glare.
Aria stood barefoot at the edge of the forest clearing, the silver of her crown dulled by ash and old magic. The Circle stood behind her, tense and ready, but silent—watching. The visions had faded, but the lingering burn of what she'd seen wouldn't leave her skin. Mara's whisper still coiled in her ear, and Caleb's final scream echoed like a ghost.
The shadows moved unnaturally tonight.
Beside her, Rowan approached carefully, his jaw tense. "It's him," he said. "Caleb. His heartbeat's still strong… but something is wrong."
Aria nodded. "I can feel her inside him."
They had found Caleb crumpled by the ruins of the Mirror Gate. He had no wounds, no visible injuries—but his eyes… they were no longer fully his. Flickers of silver danced in them like someone else was watching through them.
She dropped to her knees beside him. "Caleb," she whispered, brushing her fingers against his cheek.
