Ryan stared at his reflection in the cottage window.
Its eyes were red—not the soft red of sunset, not the warm red of fire. The red of blood. The red of hunger. The red of something that had been waiting for a very long time.
His reflection smiled.
Not his smile. Something else's.
"Elena," he said, his voice tight. "Come here."
Elena crossed the room. Her hand flew to her mouth when she saw the window.
"What happened?"
"The prisoner. It didn't leave. It left something behind."
Mira walked to the window, her silver eyes blazing. "It's not the prisoner. It's a piece of it. A fragment."
Ryan's scar pulsed. "Can we remove it?"
"I can try."
---
The ritual took place in the garden.
Mira sat in front of the cottage window, her silver eyes closed. The fragment of the prisoner pulsed
