CHAPTER 30
Isabella stayed frozen on the threshold for a heartbeat longer than necessary. The transition from the damp, suffocating cave to this warm, sun-drenched interior was shocking.
Her brain was still trying to reconcile that witches were real and this white eyed female was as terrifying as they had been in stories.
"The threshold is a filter, little wolf," Clara's voice floated from deeper within the cabin. "It only shows you what your soul is prepared to handle. Apparently, earlier today, you were only prepared for dirt and darkness."
Lucian stepped inside first, his presence immediately making the cozy room feel small. He was still a mess—covered in dried blood and dirt—but the way he carried himself in this space suggested he had been here a hundred times before.
Isabella followed, her shoes scuffing against a thick, hand-woven rug. She looked around, her anger still simmering just beneath the surface, but it was being pushed aside by a growing sense of unease.
