Around him, the women formed a tight circle, breaths catching, eyes shifting between the glowing mark and one another. The message pulsed faintly in the dirt, warm underfoot. Not watcher-made. Not runes. Something older. Something personal.
Sophie was the first to speak, her voice hushed. "She's letting go… or pretending to."
"Yours," Lucy repeated, walking around the circle, the word rolling off her tongue like it tasted wrong. "But not forever. That's not surrender. That's a promise."
Rose crouched by the edge of the mark, her fingers hovering just above the glow. "It's not from her. Not directly. This wasn't written in desire. This was written in pain."
Scarlet stepped beside her, arms wrapped around herself. "Is it a warning?"
"Or a clock," Grace murmured. "Something's ticking."