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Lyra blinked against the light and reached for the warmth beside her.

Still there.

She smiled.

Jace lay on his stomach, one arm curled beneath the pillow, the other draped loosely across the sheets where she’d been. His dark hair was tousled, lips slightly parted, breath slow and even. The muscles in his back rose and fell, a map of old scars and fresh scratches fromher.

Her fingers skimmed down the curve of his spine.

He didn’t stir.

She slipped out of bed quietly, bare feet brushing cool wood as she padded toward the bathroom. Her body ached in the best possible way—sated and stretched, still tingling in places he’d touched.

She reached for a robe hanging on the hook near the vanity, but as her reflection caught in the mirror, she froze.

The markings along her ribs glowed faintly.

Not scars.

Not bruises.

Runes.

Etched in delicate script, curling over her side in a pattern she didn’t recognize—butfeltlike hers. Protective magic pulsed from them, ancient and alive, like they’d always been there but needed something—someone—to awaken them.

“Holy stars,” she whispered.

Her magic flickered at her fingertips instinctively, reaching toward the marks as if trying to communicate.

They warmed under her touch.

Not painful. Not foreign. Just…there.

And powerful.

More than anything she’d ever conjured intentionally.

She stared at herself, heart pounding.

“Lyra?”

She startled.

Jace stood in the doorway, shirtless, sleep still dusting his features. His voice was low, scratchy—concerned.

“You okay?”

She turned toward him slowly. “You tell me.”

He frowned, stepping forward. Then his eyes tracked lower, catching sight of the runes along her skin. His jaw tightened. “Those weren’t there before.”

“I know.”

“You cast them?”

She shook her head. “Not on purpose.”

He stepped closer, gently brushing his knuckles against her waist, where the runes still glowed faintly beneath her skin.“These are protection seals.Oldones. Bound to your life force. And they’re stable.”