The horn’s echo faded into the trees, replaced by a loaded silence that pressed heavy against Emma’s chest. The centaurs held their weapons steady, their eyes scanning the shadows beyond the ridge. Emma didn’t dare move, even as her heart thudded violently in her wolf chest.Then the leader of the centaurs lowered his spear.“You are fortunate,” he said in that gravelled tone. “That horn was not for you.”Steve snarled beside her but held his ground. The leader turned to him and nodded with solemn authority. “You’re safe. For now. Come—follow us. There is much you need to understand.”Emma hesitated, then dipped her head in silent agreement. She and Steve trotted after the centaur patrol, who moved with practiced precision through the forest trails, keeping their formation tight. When they reached a narrow clearing beneath the thick canopy of pines, the leader raised his hand and brought them to a halt.“We can speak freely here.”Emma and Steve shifted simultaneously.Bones popped, f
Pain had faded into a dull ache, then into something almost imperceptible—like the ghost of a memory lingering behind her ribs. Emma lay in the ash-streaked grass beside the broken helicopter wreckage, her breathing slow and steady, her senses sharpening with every minute that passed. The gash along her arm had already begun to close. Torn flesh stitched itself back together with silent resolve, muscles knitting beneath her skin as her blood worked its ancient magic. The swelling in her leg had receded, the bones aligning and locking in place like puzzle pieces finding their way home. Nearby, Steve grunted as his shoulder snapped into its socket with a sickening pop. His face contorted with pain for only a heartbeat before it eased. His chest rose and fell steadily, bare skin streaked with drying blood and ash. “Wolves,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Built like nightmares, heal like miracles.” Emma
There was no light.Only the hush of emptiness, vast and consuming.Emma floated in the darkness, weightless, untethered. She couldn’t feel her limbs. She couldn’t even remember her body—just the faint sensation of movement, like she was drifting down an invisible river that moved without water or banks.Then a whisper echoed through the black.“You should not have come.”Emma’s breath hitched—or it would have, if she were still breathing. The voice was not human. It wasn’t angry, but it carried an ancient weight, as though it had been speaking since before the first Pack howled at the moon.“Who are you?” she asked, though her voice was nothing but thought.The darkness did not answer.Instead, a vision opened before her—a shimmer in the void, like a mirror rising from a bottomless sea. It stood tall and twisted, its frame carved from bone so white it glowed. Emma had seen it before, in fragments of memory and magic, in Alexander’s cryptic warnings, and in the writings she had barely
The rhythmic hum of the rotors echoed through the metal shell of the helicopter, a steady thrum that filled the cabin like a heartbeat. From her seat beside Steve, Emma stared out the small window, watching the world blur beneath them as they cut through the sky toward Moon Valley. Clouds shifted like torn parchment above the distant mountains, and the wind occasionally jostled the aircraft with invisible fingers.She had always thought of the sky as a place of peace—open, endless, free. But now, thousands of feet above a crumbling world, her chest was tight with unease.Steve’s hand moved from the control stick briefly, brushing hers. “You’ve gone quiet,” he said, his voice calm but not without concern. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”Emma gave a slow blink, then turned from the window. The expression on her face made it clear she wasn’t in the mood for pretending. “I’m wondering if I’m ready for whatever she’s going to tell me.”Steve arched a brow but kept his eyes trained
The mountains surrounding Sterling Creek loomed tall and jagged, their silhouettes carved into the grey sky like the bones of some forgotten beast. Emma stood at the edge of the balcony, arms folded against the creeping chill of morning. Below her, the forest remained eerily still—an unnatural quiet that had settled over the land ever since Alexander’s ghost vanished in a hiss of ash and dying light.She didn’t want to admit it, but the memory of his final words lingered in her mind like smoke: The Bone Mirror. The Bleeding Moon. The doorway.And now, Steve wanted to chase it.Behind her, she heard the faint creak of the door and then the sound of boots crossing the wooden floor. Steve joined her at the railing, his eyes already scanning the far eastern ridge—the place Alexander had said the mirror was buried.“We need to find it,” he said. “Whatever this Bone Mirror is... we need to see it for ourselves.”Emma didn’t move. Her voice came out low, measured. “And what if finding it wak
"It all began with the Pale circle," Alexander beganSteve hadn’t moved from the couch since the last revelation. His elbows dug into his knees, his hands clutched tightly around his head. The weight of everything bore down on him. The room, once filled with heavy silence, now held a deeper tension. A warning.Emma stood near the edge of the pentagram, staring at the ghost within it. Alexander still wore that maddening smirk, even though he was nothing more than a cursed memory bound by blood and magic.Then, as if summoned by something unspoken, Emma’s voice broke the stillness.“The Pale Circle.”The name escaped her lips like a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.Steve looked up sharply, his green eyes reddened with confusion. “What did you say?”Emma turned to him, her voice steadier now. “The Pale Circle. A creature told me about it back in the forest. I have heard about it before."Alexander’s smirk deepened. His green eyes held a sharp glint, cold and sharp like a dag