Reborn Of The Moon
And beneath that, a single line of prophecy:
“When the moon is fractured and the red eye returns, she will rise again, unfinished, unyielding, unforgiven.”
Aria’s hands shook. Her breathing turned shallow.
She’d created this.
She had sealed her own soul’s return, through magic older than the packs, deeper than the moon’s cycles.
She wasn’t just reborn.
She had engineered it.
The scroll darkened in her hands, the silver ink turning black. Then without warning it disintegrated into ash and vanished into the wind.
“Why did it do that?” she asked, voice hollow.
Maelin’s expression was grim.
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