Rhea gasped, her breath catching in her chest as she stared at her own childhood face.
It was a younger version of her—barefoot, her small palms pressed flat against the dark obsidian slab, her head bowed as if waiting for a blow or a blessing.
Above the girl stood the woman, her long arms stretched toward the pale sky. She looked terrifying, and beautiful. The silver stone hanging at her throat flared with an unnatural light that painted the trees in harsh, cold glare.
"By moon and by marrow, by blood and by bond," the woman proclaimed. Her voice vibrated through the ground. "We seal the echo. We tether the memory. Through this child, the origin holds."
A low hum grew from the surrounding pines, starting deep in the dirt before rising into a rhythmic chant. The wolves threw back thei
