The room was colder than it had any right to be. Not because of the stone walls, or the flickering runes carved into the ground, but because of her.
Sophia.She sat cross-legged at the center of the ritual circle, her eyes hollow, her shoulders slack as though the very soul inside her had deflated. She wasn’t bound. No chains. No silver cuffs. No guards.
She didn’t need them anymore.The spells carved around her pulsed softly, layered enchantments from witches much older than her own bloodline. Her magic was contained — not destroyed, but dormant. Tethered like a dying star in a cage of ash and salt. She couldn’t cast, she couldn’t shift. And worst of all, she couldn&r
