46: THE SPIRE’S MOUTH

AYLA – POV

My boots crunched frost and ash as I stepped into the clearing. Veyra's weight was a solid warmth against my chest. She hadn't stirred since the dream. Her fingers curled in my cloak like she knew what was coming.

Kael moved beside me like a shadow with teeth, silent, sharp. I didn't look at him. Didn't need to. The bond between us burned low and steady, like coals banked under snow. Not gone. Just waiting.

The girl from the trees—the one who called me sister—stood in the center of the stone ring that marked the Spire's outer mouth. Red hair, wild like flame in the wind. Eyes like mirrors.

She tilted her head and smiled. "You're late."

I didn't answer. My fingers curled tighter around the sling.

She stepped closer. No threat in her gait. No fear either. Her scent was familiar—too familiar.

Kael shifted slightly. "You know her?"

I shook my head. "No. But my blood does."