The world was too quiet.
Too still.
Too wrong.
Aria hadn't moved from the ritual circle. The bloodstains on the stone hadn't faded, and the scent of scorched magic still clung to the air. Her knees were bruised from kneeling too long, her throat raw from screaming Caleb's name.
But he hadn't come back.
He had leapt into the collapsing circle to stop Mara. To protect her. To save Elena.
And he was gone.
Elena was alive—barely—resting in the sanctuary under Solene's watchful eyes. Mara had vanished with Caleb, ripped into the spirit realm as the ritual backfired.
But none of that mattered to Aria.
The bond that once hummed between her and Caleb was quiet now. Not severed—but distant. Thin. Like a breath stretched across lifetimes. She pressed her hand to her heart, as if she could anchor him there, if only she held on tightly enough.
"I told you not to do anything reckless," she whispered to the empty wind. "I told you to stay."
