Elle's Pov
It's been forty-eight hours since the ritual and my world has splits into layers.
The "Second Eye" isn't a metaphor. It's a constant, vibrating layer of reality that I can't turn off. Now, when I walk through the halls of Woodbury, I see the threads. I see the faint, smoke-colored trails of intention trailing behind the servants. I see truth clinging to my mother's skin like a pale, shimmering heat. The walls of this house don't just stand; they breathe. They hold the echoes of every argument, every birth, and every betrayal that has happened within these stone boundaries.
But even with this new sight, Leora remains a ghost. She has folded herself into a place I can't enter; a silent, shielded void. Knowing her too well, she's not hiding, she's moving pieces on a board I can't see yet.
"You're thinking too much I can hear your teeth grinding, little moon," Nana murmurs from the bed.
