Brittany POV
The woman standing in my doorway shouldn't exist. My mother died when I was seven. I saw the coffin, threw dirt on it, cried myself to sleep for months afterward. But Eleanor's green eyes are identical to mine, her auburn hair now streaked with silver that catches moonlight like captured starfire. She radiates power that makes my Bridge-Breaker abilities feel like sparks compared to her wildfire.
"Hello, Brittany." Her voice carries the same gentle cadence I remember from lullabies, but underneath it hums magic that tastes like centuries and secrets. "We need to talk."
Tyler moves between us instantly, his human reflexes slower than they were yesterday but his protective instincts unchanged. "Who are you?"
"I'm her mother." Eleanor's smile holds twenty-five years of regret
