Eira’s POV
I take another step toward the mural. I don’t touch it.
I study the woman’s face. The slope of her nose. The curve of her jaw. The quiet, fierce set of her shoulders. The similarities are undeniable, but something feels wrong. She doesn’t look exactly like me. She looks like an older, harder version of what I might become.
"She looks like someone who could have been me."
Art steps closer. He doesn’t block my view this time.
“Eira.”
He called just my name, asking if I’m okay without actually asking.
I don’t answer immediately. I just keep staring at the painted silver eyes.
Soren is studying the wolf at the woman’s feet. His brow is furrowed.
“It’s not positioned like a guard,” he murmurs. “It’s resting against her leg.” He shif
