“You're certain?" Katherine asked, lying still beneath the cold glass dome.
Healer-seer Iona pressed silver fingertips against her temples. “Yes. The sigils are clear now. There are slashes across your hippocampus—not physical, but psychic. This wasn't trauma. It was… surgery."
Katherine swallowed. “Someone cut my memories."
“Precisely. Think of it like a blade made of intent, forged from spirit and moonlight. Designed to sever select neural pathways, without killing."
Damian stood near the archway, jaw tight. “How do we reverse it?"
Iona hesitated. “Not with potions. Not with time. The only viable method is spiritual re-fusion through the origin of the bond."
“You mean—"
“You must reactivate the reverse mark," she said solemnly. “Fully. Not just emotionally, but spiritually. Bite t
