Forever mine
We had traded the overt horror of the Hollowed for the insidious rot of a conspiracy that refused to die.
I stood in the center of the grand library, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and the electric ozone that always seemed to follow me now. My hair, once pure white, was now a striking marble of snow and shadow—the black streaks serving as a permanent map of the void I had anchored. I was thirty-five now, but in the reflection of the dark wood paneling, I looked exactly as I had the day I walked out of the Still-Lands. The immortality of the Luna was no longer a blessing; it was a static, unchanging prison.
"They're moving again, Elara," Kaelen said, stepping into the room.
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