The Wolf's Game
The mirrors around me tremble, their surfaces rippling like disturbed water.
No.
This was not meant to happen. She was not meant to survive. The heartbloom was never meant to choose her. I whirl toward the largest mirror, fury gathering in my palms like fire, and there she is.
Aria Vale. Standing in the ruins of my garden. Her arm is glowing, and her shoulder is marked by the bloom as she belongs to it, as she belongs to the Game, as she belongs to him.
A scream tears out of my throat before I can stop it, sharp enough to shatter one of the lesser mirrors. The glass explodes into glittering shards.