Aria
Her hands trembled as the last wave of magic drained through her fingertips, burning crescent-shaped patterns into the earth. Kael stood beside her, his stance wide and ready—but he didn't intervene.
Aria collapsed to one knee, gasping, her body aching from the sheer force of it.
"You're getting stronger," he said softly.
She wiped her brow, golden strands of hair clinging to her damp skin. "It doesn't feel like strength. It feels like I'm being hollowed out."
Kael crouched beside her. "That's the bond fighting back. Dorian's trying to tether what's left. And he's running out of time."
Aria looked up, her voice trembling. "What happens if he succeeds?"
Kael hesitated. "He won't just bring her back, Aria. He'll put her in you. That's the witch's design. Your body—your power—will become the vessel."
The air felt colder suddenly.
"No," she whispered. "He wouldn't…"
But part of her knew he would.
Dorian
The witch chanted louder now, the circle around them thrumming with stolen energy. Black candles hissed as he dropped Aria's broken necklace into the center.
Her essence still clung to it—what remained of the bond still his.
The air shimmered. The ritual neared its end.
Carys's grave began to crack, the soil trembling.
Just a few more lines of blood.
Just a little more of Aria's power.
Aria
That night, her dreams returned with fury.
Silver fire. A skeletal hand reaching out of the ground. A mirror cracking down the center—and her reflection replaced by a stranger's face.
Selene's voice rang like a bell in her skull.
You must choose, daughter. Rise… or be reborn into ruin.
She woke screaming.
Kael was already there, catching her shoulders, grounding her.
"He's doing it now," she gasped. "I felt her. I saw her."
He nodded grimly. "Then we end this. Tomorrow."