The chamber darkened as if the glow from the dagger had pulled the light into itself. Liora didn't move. Neither did Lucien.
The dagger shimmered, a faint gold at first, then a rush of crimson light that pulsed once, twice, and then burst outward like a breath being released after centuries of silence.
And then...
Liora wasn't in the room anymore.
She stood in the middle of a scorched field, fire curling around the tips of ruined trees. The sky was blood orange. The wind howled like it mourned something long lost. And there, in the center, a woman stood tall amidst the flames.
She wore a gown the color of old parchment, her back rigid, her hair braided with pieces of golden thread. Her face… was Liora's. And yet not.
Her mouth moved, whispering something Liora couldn't hear at first, until the name rang clearly through the crackling flames:
"Kael."
Liora's heart skipped.
