Elara
Lyconderia still doesn’t feel like home.
I walk the stone corridors of the castle, but I feel like a ghost. A shadow dressed in someone else’s life. The silk robes I wear cling too tightly, like borrowed skin. The ornate jewelry, the polished shoes, the jeweled comb in my hair, they all belonged to Seraphina. And no matter how many times I look in the mirror, it’s her reflection I see staring back, not mine.
Not yet.
Nova stirred inside me. Her voice was low, steady.
“You’re not her, Elara,” she reminded me again. “But you are stronger. You are here for a purpose. Don’t forget that.”
“I haven’t,” I whispered to the quiet room, pressing a hand to the cold windowpane. Outside, the mountains cradled the horizon like arms holding a secret.
“But it doesn’t make it easier.”
Later t
