AMARANTA POV
“Stay with me, Amaranta.”
The warmth strengthened.
Pressure curled around my hand.
A grip.
Large. Familiar. Shaking.
“Garrett,” I tried to say, but my lips barely moved, and the effort of forming his name felt like walking through broken glass.
The warmth pulsed against my fingers.
The spirits noticed.
They didn’t just recoil this time.
They hissed.
Shapes closed in around me, tighter, closer, their bodies flickering in and out of form like smoke struggling to stay solid. I felt them brush against my arms—cold, slick, wrong. One dragged what felt like fingers down my spine, and the sensation was so real I gasped and arched away from it.
“She cannot leave.”
“She has walked beside us too long.”
“She is almost ours.”
They began circling me.
Slow at first.
Then ti
