There was a relentless authority in her words, an insistence so forceful and commanding that it finally made Circe recoil. She took a large step back, putting physical distance between them at last, as if space itself could shield her from what Dena was suggesting.
To do what Dena implied would mean crossing the veil into the Heartwood Grove, accepting the mantle, and taking her mother's place as the living center of the Liraelith. It was a possibility Circe had never allowed herself to imagine, an outcome she would never choose.
Dena's gaze flickered first to the distance Circe had created, then to the horror plainly written across her face.
"Then our deal is off," Circe said, her voice trembling but resolute. "I will no longer help you wake your sister, and I want nothing more to do with you."
The corners of Dena's lips turned downward, though she offered no reply. She did not need to. Circe could feel it in the charged silence between them that this was far from over.
***
