The night was too still.
Too quiet for a forest that had just seen the gates of another world rip open.
Killian could still feel the hum beneath the earth — faint but alive, as if the ground itself were breathing. The fissure where the Veil had torn shimmered with a dim violet light, like embers refusing to die. He crouched beside Aria, his hands still pressed to her trembling shoulders, his heartbeat hammering harder than it should.
“Aria,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Can you hear me?”
Her lashes fluttered. For a moment, her eyes opened — but the color wasn’t right. It wasn’t the warm silver of her wolf or the icy blue of her Moonfire. It was deeper, glinting faintly violet beneath the surface, and when she exhaled, a shimmer of cold mist escaped her lips.
