Page 23

23

NORA

I don’t remember when I started walking again.

The ruins shift around me, indistinct. Like they’re changing when I’m not looking. Cracked stone walls etched with glyphs hum softly beneath my fingers, pulsing with recognition that isn’t mine. My blood feels like it’s turning electric—my skin too tight for the things moving inside me.

It should frighten me.

It doesn’t.

I feel hollowed out. Not empty, but scraped raw—like something old has been gouged from my soul, leaving behind space for something else to take root. The remnants of our enemies still cling to the air, bitter and metallic, but I can barely focus on it. My legs move of their own accord, following some unspoken pull.

Rhaegar hasn’t come looking for me again.

Maybe he’s giving me space.

Or maybe he knows something I don’t.

The corridor narrows into a downward spiral of stone stairs, worn smooth by time and memory. The deeper it is, the colder it gets—frost coating the edges of the stone despite the storm’s warmth still lingering above. My breath turns to mist, and the magic in my veins quiets like it’s holding itself still.

At the bottom, the chamber yawns wide and circular.

Silent. Intact.

At its center, an obsidian pedestal cradles something veiled in shadow. My pulse skips. I cross the threshold, each footfall echoing louder than it should.

As I draw closer, the shadows peel back to reveal it: a mirror.

Oval. Tall as I am. The frame is carved from dark bone and etched with runes that shimmer faintly when I step into the light.

But the glass doesn’t reflect me.

At least, not only me.

My face stares back—but it’s not mine.

She is taller. Her posture is straight, imperious. Her hair is bound in coils of silver and black, her armor etched with sigils I don’t understand but feel like I should. Her eyes?—

They burn violet. A flaring amethyst.

The mirror pulses. My breath catches.

And she smiles.

I stumble back, shaking my head. “No. No, no, no.”

Her image ripples, but remains.

I feel a pull in my gut, like a string tied tight between my ribs and the glass. My knees give out. I fall to them, clawing at the stone floor. I want to turn away. I can’t.

“You’re not real,” I whisper. “You’re a memory. A shadow. Not me. ”

She tilts her head in the reflection. Opens her mouth.

And my voice comes out.

“I am what you were always meant to become.”

The sound shatters me.

Something tears inside my chest—some dam, some seal—and the magic explodes outward in a torrent of silver flame. I scream as power lashes from my fingers, arcs across the chamber, slams into the walls and the ceiling and the mirror itself.

It doesn’t break.

She doesn’t vanish.

She grows clearer.

The ground cracks beneath me. My skin burns with arcane lightning. My thoughts aren’t mine anymore—they’re filled with fire, with fury, with names and memories I’ve never lived. I see a throne made of bone and crystal. I see cities bowed in ash. I see Rhaegar bleeding at my feet.

And I want it.

Gods, I want it .

“NO!”

I try to pull myself back—but the magic won’t stop. It won’t stop.

Hands grab me from behind— real hands—pulling me back, anchoring me. I twist, snarling, and nearly unleash a blast until I see who it is.

Rhaegar.

His arms are locked around me, holding me down as I thrash, as light pours from my mouth in a ragged scream.

“Let me go!” I cry.

“I won’t,” he says, voice rough, grounding.

“She’s inside me—she’s waking—I can’t stop it?—”

“I know,” he growls. “But you’re still in there too.”

My vision blurs.

“She’s stronger,” I sob. “She’s always been stronger.”

He tightens his hold, pressing his forehead to the side of my head. “You are not her.”

I shake, magic crackling in wild waves.

“But she is part of you now,” he says, breath ghosting against my temple. “You don’t have to be her. You just have to choose .”

The storm inside me slows.

Only slightly.

The mirror still stands.

But now our faces are merged.

One eye violet. One eye silver.

One mouth set in a snarl.

The other whispering help me.

I collapse against Rhaegar, my whole body trembling, magic pulsing low and wild beneath my skin.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” I whisper.

His arms tighten.

“Then we’ll find out together.”