ERIS
Solara's hooves were a war drum. Each strike ate the frozen road, carrying me toward the stained sky, toward screams my magic pulled across impossible distances. Closer to the disaster that smelled like my own sin.
The demons were familiar.
Not like friends. Like my own face in a shattered mirror. Twisted. Wrong.
Demons.
Someone had summoned them.
And only one person should have been able to.
Me.
The me from before. The villainess. The witch who wrote the spell in a grimoire that should have burned with Solmire.
But the book I'd last seen in a traitor's hands. The witch. The knight who betrayed me. The pieces locked together.
Solara was fast. Blessed by the fire leaking from my breaking seal. But not fast enough.
People were dying. Now. Each death was a cut. A debt added to a ledger already soaked in first-life blood.
They were my demons. My god's ruined children. My fault.
I needed to be faster.
