[Emma's POV]
“Emma?” he said, his voice soft, almost a whisper.
It was enough.
Her eyes flew open, wide and unfocused, the ghost of Damon’s chant still echoing in their depths. She flinched, a tiny, instinctual recoil from the sudden presence.
The massive, ornate mirror hanging on the far wall, a family heirloom that had reflected generations of Blackwoods, did not simply crack. It erupted. A spiderweb of fractures radiated from the center with a sound like a frozen lake breaking apart. Then, the entire sheet of glass, held in its gilded frame, seemed to be sucked inward, collapsing into a pile of glittering, diamond-like dust on the floor with a final, sickening crunch.
The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the frantic crackle of the fire.
Emma stared at the pile of
