The air inside Mirror Chapel was thick as smoke though no incense burned. The stone walls breathed with memory, shadows moving across stained glass as if stirred by invisible hands. Every step Aria took echoed not just in the hall, but inside her ribs. She felt the weight of centuries pressing down, testing her.
Damaris waited at the center of the dais, framed by the pale circle etched into the floor. His presence was not loud; it didn’t need to be. He was a man carved from arrogance, and arrogance had its own gravity. His eyes tracked her like a hawk watching a storm it didn’t yet believe could touch it.
“You look stronger,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “But strength is not enough. You mistake defiance for power, little wolf.”
Aria stopped at the edge of the circle, her blade low
