The spectral green fire, born from the ancient resonance of the North, still flickered in the scorched grass when the silver storm descended. The air, which had briefly smelled of a king’s winter forest, was suddenly incinerated by the sharp, ozone tang of the Moonstone Spire’s power.
Willow—the woman the world called Adeline Vane—didn't land; she manifested. She was a jagged streak of mercury tearing through the emerald light, her presence so cold it caused the spectral tree to shiver and dissolve into ash.
"Leo!" Her voice didn't sound like a mother’s call. It was a high-frequency command, a sonic ripple that knocked Hunter back three paces.
She stood between them, her chest heaving, the violet device behind her ear pulsing with a frantic, rhythmic light. To Hunter, she looked like a
