The world came back in pieces.
First was sound—the faint drip of water on stone, a rhythm so steady it felt alive. Then came light, soft and uneven, shimmering through a thick silver mist.
Avery opened her eyes.
She lay on a shallow surface of glassy water. Every ripple reflected a different sky—one blood-red, one starless black, one soft gray like morning fog. The air smelled of iron and rain.
When she moved, her reflection didn’t follow.
Slowly, she sat up. The water barely rippled beneath her weight. Beneath its surface, she could see fragments of places she half-recognized: a city street at night, a cathedral burning, her own hands holding Kael’s. Then the image would vanish, replaced by something else—faces, flashes of light, the shadow of the entity she’d severed.
“Where…” Her
