The house didn’t breathe anymore.Yvette stood by the window of the safehouse, its warped panes catching the ash-filtered light that fell from a bruised sky. Smoke curled in the distance, low and steady. Not fire, exactly. But the memory of it. Like something burned in the air itself.Behind her, Cara stirred."It’s happening again," Cara whispered, her voice dry with sleep and fear.Yvette didn’t answer right away. Her gaze followed the curling smoke. Her mind, however, traced the jagged seams of memory that had opened like old wounds since the mirror cracked in the vault. There was a pull now, a gravity that seemed to twist even time. Some nights, she dreamed of her grandmother’s voice, warning her of the veil growing thin.And other nights, she didn’t sleep at all—because the sea whispered too loudly.Tristan entered the room silently, his presence grounding but taut. His jaw clenched as he glanced toward the window."I saw it from the ridge," he said. "It’s not smoke. It’s... some
Last Updated : 2025-07-19 Read more