Eira’s POV
"Thump."
The sound doesn’t come from the stone this time. It comes from the base of my skull.
"Thump."
My breath hitches as the circular chamber tilts, the carved walls blurring into streaks of gray and silver, cold stone laid bare under my feet.
Suddenly, it's all there—the sharp, sweet scent of crushed blue petals; a small, scarred hand in mine; the rhythm of a shared heartbeat. Then a voice, rough and familiar, whispering into the dark: "You promised you’d come back."
I gasp, stumbling forward as the chamber snaps back into focus. My knees hit the stone floor. The memory is gone, but the scent of crushed blue petals still clings to the back of my throat.
The blue-silver flowers around my boots flare. They don’t just glow; they bloom com
