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LIORA

T he ruins close behind me, swallowed by shadows, by what just happened. I run—not because I want to, but because I have to.

Dain meant to kill me.

His claws were inches from my throat.

My breath comes in ragged gasps as I stumble over uneven stone, my limbs heavy with exhaustion, my body aching from magic I don’t understand. My hands shake, my vision blurs, but I don’t stop. I can’t.

Something inside me, something old, something primal, has woken, and it is tearing me apart.

I don’t know what’s worse, the fear of Dain hunting me, or the thing lurking just beyond my senses, watching, waiting.

The dark presence is still here.

It doesn’t chase me. It doesn’t strike. It waits.

I feel it stirring beneath the surface of reality, coiling around my thoughts, whispering in a voice I should not recognize but do.

"Purna."

The name slithers through my skull, curling against my ribs like a brand. It pulses through my bones, trying to drag me back into something I refuse to remember.

"Come to me."

"Come home."

I shove my hands over my ears as if that will help, as if I can silence something that speaks from within me.

"Remember."

The word shatters something inside me. Images rise, flickering, broken—firelight on stone, hands outstretched, lips moving in a chant I don’t understand but somehow do.

Dain is there, younger, wilder, his face twisted in rage, in betrayal, in something I don’t have the words for.

I stumble, gasping, my body revolting against the vision. I grip the closest surface, fingers scraping against tree bark, forcing myself to stay in the present.

"Liora."

The voice changes.

It is no longer the dark thing whispering.

It is Dain.

But he is not here.

The connection between us thrums in my skull, stronger than before, thick with fury, with confusion, with the instinct to hunt.

I feel him searching for me.

He will come.

I don’t know what he’ll do when he finds me.

I push forward, deeper into the trees, my muscles burning, my vision swimming. The night presses against me, cold and wet with mist, the air thick with something ancient and wrong.

There’s nowhere to go, no true escape, but my body keeps moving, keeps fighting.

Leaves whip against my face as I break into a clearing, my boots sinking into soft, damp earth. I collapse to my knees, shaking, panting, breaking.

I press my palms to the ground, grounding myself, feeling the earth beneath me instead of the memories clawing at my mind.

Dain’s rage lingers in my head, but he is not the only one watching me.

The dark presence hums just beyond my vision.

Waiting.

It has not attacked me.

Why?

It could have killed me already. It could have swallowed me whole, devoured whatever fragile life I have left.

Instead, it speaks to me.

It wants me to remember.

"Purna."

I scream.

I don’t recognize my own voice. I don’t recognize myself.

The trees tremble around me, or maybe it’s just me shaking.

I will everything away, forcing my eyes close.

I don’t want this.

I don’t want to be whoever I was.

I am Liora.

I will always be Liora.

But even as I repeat the words over and over in my mind, the name Amara lingers on the edge of my thoughts, like a blade poised at my throat.

And the presence, whatever it is, whatever it wants, laughs.

I force myself to my feet, staggering deeper into the forest.

I am not safe here.

Not from Dain. Not from it.

Not from myself.

The only thing I can do is run.

But the moment my feet move, the world shifts beneath me. My legs falter, the exhaustion hitting all at once, sudden, brutal.

I make it only a few steps before my body gives out.

I crash into the roots of an ancient tree, curling in on myself, my chest heaving, my skin slick with cold sweat.

I cannot run anymore.

I cannot fight this.

Not tonight.

The forest is silent.

The dark presence does not speak again.

But I know it is still there.

Watching. Waiting.

So is Dain.