Autumn died screaming in Redding that night.
The attic’s ancient timbers groaned beneath Christian’s boots as he arranged the components of his ritual. Each element lay meticulously placed on the scarred floorboards—silver wire twisted into shapes that made reality flinch, crystals humming with tones sharp enough to turn his molars to ice, and at the center, a mirror reflecting yesterdays that had never happened.
The price of these materials still burned in his blood. Favors extracted from things that slithered between moments. Promises etched in currencies that curdled starlight. Debts waiting to be paid in ways that made even his beast’s ancient soul shiver.
But watching Daisy battle the corruption in her dreams had burned away three thousand years of caution.
“This will break things
