Danielle couldn’t breathe.
The girl standing at the edge of the ruins wasn’t a stranger. Not really. She was a shadow ripped from a memory. A presence Danielle had seen through someone else’s eyes, cloaked in history and dark magic and danger.
She was Briar.
But it couldn’t be.
Danielle’s mind reeled, grabbing for logic, for anything to explain the impossible. A descendant, maybe. A magical illusion. A trick of the Veil—
Then Briar muttered, almost to herself, voice feather-light but laced with venom.
“The stupid Brotherhood couldn’t even use her gift properly. This shouldn’t have taken over a century.”
Danielle’s breath caught in her throat.
Her stomach turned to stone.
Something clicked. Something deep.
“Briar?” she asked, her voice thin. “But aren’t you… supposed to be dead?”
