The forest was dead quiet as Nyra knelt before the altar deep in Xavier’s forgotten sanctuary. Her skin was streaked with ash and blood. Her eyes—no longer merely gold—were ringed with black flames.
Xavier watched from the shadows, one hand resting on the hilt of a blade he hadn’t drawn in weeks.
“You’re sure this will work?” he asked.
Nyra looked up, her lips curled in a smirk. “The spell requires the blood of the Luna… and the cursed one who once bore the bond. That’s you.”
He flinched. “I never bore it.”
“You almost did,” she said. “That’s enough for this magic. Together, we’ll build the illusion that Maria is still among her pack. They’ll never know she’s gone—until it’s too late.”
Xavier hesitated. “And if the real Maria fights back?”
Nyra bared her teeth. “Then I’ll kill her.
