The air was thick with silence, heavy and trembling like the moment before lightning strikes. Aria stood frozen, her fingers still glowing faintly from the Shard of Midnight's touch. The vision of a broken future shimmered behind her eyes—Caleb, lifeless. Rowan, standing beside her, possessed by moonfire and something far more ancient.
And now Rowan had stepped forward again.
His boots crushed the frost-laced grass beneath them. His eyes, flickering with silvery fire, locked onto hers. "What did you see, Aria?" he asked, but his voice wasn't just his own. It echoed—warped by something else.
Caleb moved before she could answer, stepping between her and Rowan. "She doesn't owe you anything," he growled, his voice tight with pain. The energy in his veins, the gift of the spirit realm, hummed against Aria's skin. She could feel it—the same way she felt her own blood calling out to something ancient and buried.
Rowan tilted his head. "Still playing the protector? Even now?"
