THE GIRL WHO LEFT
The darkness did not last.
Light seeped out of the carved walls one wolf at a time, until the whole chamber glowed the color of old silver. Isabella stood with her back against the basin, the fused pendant burning against her collarbone. Seraphine had not moved. Her eyes were fixed on the far wall, where the carvings had begun to shift.
The stone rippled like water. The wolves seemed to run faster. Then they parted, and a woman stepped out of the wall as if she were walking through a curtain of mist.
It was the girl from the vision. The pale dress, the loose hair, Isabella’s own face. But she was only half there. Her edges trembled, and Isabella could see the carved wolves running through her body.
“Elowen,” Seraphine whispered, pressing a hand to her mouth.
The gi
