Page 79

Silas shrugs. “Then I guess we’ll just see whodoescome back.”

Caspian finally strolls in, looking vaguely alarmed until Luna tugs his hand and murmurs something soft. He leans into her, quiet, haunted—but not pulling away.

And me?

I stare at the circle. At the chaos that always comes wrapped in Silas-shaped skin. At the magic in this room that’s shifting like it remembers it was meant towake.

And I wonder—just how much worse this is about to get.

Caspian

One second he’s finishing a circle with eyeliner like it’s some harmless sketch on a café napkin, and the next? The airshifts. No other word for it. It bends—like reality just leaned in to take a better look.

Riven moves fast—faster than I expect—grabbing Silas by the back of his shirt and hauling him away from the binding just as the lines begin to glow. The circle flares with a low, humming heat. Not fire. Not light.

Desire.

And then she steps out.

NotLuna. No—Luna’s next to me, frozen in place, the bond between us goingtautwith her shock, with a flush that starts at her throat andcrawlsall the way up.

But the creature stepping through? It's her.

She’s every inch Luna, but designed like a sin. Hair loose and tumbling over her shoulders like spilled ink, eyes dark and knowing, lips painted the color of bitten fruit. And the lingerie—fuck me—it’s nothing subtle. She’s wearing the kind of silk that should be illegal. Dark red, see-through, edged in black lace that barely conceals the shape of her thighs, the curve of her breasts, the soft hint of—

“Holy shit,” Elias says reverently, one step from dropping to his knees.

Even Ambrose twitches. Like he didn’tmeanto look, but now that he has, he can’t quite make himself stop.

We all take a step forward. It’s unconscious. Like a magnetic pull. Even Riven’s frozen. His jaw’s tight, eyes locked on the twin like she’s a threat and a fever dream all at once.

Except for Luna. The real one. Who stands beside me redder than a fucking sunrise and probably one second from murdering Silas. Who’s grinning like a lunatic. Smug. Proud. Like hemeantto conjure his fantasy and make it our collective nightmare.

The not-Luna curls a finger under her chin, tilting her head. Her voice slides out like smoke, warm and slow.

“I am the manifested fantasy of the one who completed the circle,” she purrs. “You get three questions. Onlyyoumay ask them.”

She looks straight at Silas.

And he—fuck—he actually blushes. His mouth opens. Closes.

Luna groans beside me. “You manifested a sex doll version of me,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Out ofallthe things you could’ve summoned—”

Silas shrugs, sheepish and totally unrepentant. “I didn’tknowit would work.”

“You finished a forbidden circle in the middle of a locked wing of a supernatural academy.”

“I didn’tknowit would workthis well.”

The clone steps forward, barefoot, unbothered by the ancient stone beneath her. Her gaze rakes over all of us, but lands on Silas again, eyes glinting.

“Three questions,” she repeats. “Ask wisely.”

And I can’t help it. I lean toward Luna and murmur, just loud enough for her to hear, “You should wear that for real sometime.”

She elbows me in the ribs. Hard. Worth it.

Silas looks between all of us like he's been handed the nuclear codes and zero adult supervision. God help us all.