IRIS’ P.O.V.
The stone circle still shimmered under my feet as the last of the magic settled. My heartbeat had slowed, my body no longer shaking with raw power, but I could feel it beneath my skin—like molten metal running through my veins.
Blake stayed silent near the threshold, watchful.
Clara finally stepped forward, holding the ancient tome in both hands, the one with the symbol that mirrored mine.
“You asked about her,” she said. “The woman in the book. The one who came before you.”
I nodded, slowly.
Clara sat on the low stone bench across from me, opening the book to that same haunting image—the woman cloaked in moonlight and fire, surrounded by wolves whose eyes glowed like stars.
“Her name was Illyra. She wasn’t a goddess,” Clara said. “Not fully. She was the first child of
