The figure had her face, her body—but the eyes glowed crimson, and her presence pulsed with lethal power. Her voice was low and mocking.
“You’re not worthy of the blood you carry.”
Aria’s breath caught. “What… are you?”
“I’m the truth you keep running from. The Luna you’re afraid to become. The one who would burn the world for justice.”
They circled each other, mirror and reflection.
“I’m not a monster,” Aria whispered.
“No? What about when you watched your mother die and did nothing? What about when you let Lillian humiliate you? When you begged for scraps from those brothers instead of demanding your place?”
The twisted version of her lunged, claws extended... Aria barely dodged.
The training with Elder Elias surged back into her mind—lessons in focus, breath, balance.
She lande
