The wind fell still.
Not dead—just waiting.
The false me stood across the broken stone of the Citadel’s courtyard, a thing made of flame and memory, her silhouette flickering like a candle in a cathedral of ruin. Her eyes glowed white, seared with the Archive’s runes. My runes. The ones carved into my soul the moment I had first touched fire.
Her mouth moved again, smiling. “You are not ready.”
My fists curled at my sides.
Behind me, the Hollow whispered through my veins, its power coiling like a serpent uncoiling, not to strike—but to encircle.
Kael’s hand grazed the curve of my back—protective, yes, but something else now. Not a guard. Not a commander. A partner. A tether.
And I needed that tether more than I dared admit.
“I am ready,” I said, my voice steady.
The Hollow pulsed
