Ria
I slammed the book shut, the sound echoing off the attic walls like a war drum.
“Nothing,” I said bitterly. “Again.”
Tessa didn’t even flinch. She just turned another fragile page of the cracked leather-bound tome she had resting across her lap.
We were on hour seven of our latest search.
Two days of nothing but candles, ink-stained fingers, dry eyes, and a mounting fear we were running out of time.
The potion Sparkle used at the rehearsal dinner had taken hold so completely that Zara no longer felt… alive inside.
Not the way she had in the courtyard. Not the way she should.
And now, her 19th birthday had passed.
The wolf was supposed to awaken by now.
But nothing.
It was like Zara’s spirit had been sealed in a glass box.
She laughed, she smiled—but it wasn’t real.
We saw
