Everything inside her seemed to collapse inward at once, as though her body no longer knew how to function under the sheer weight of what she was seeing. Her mother.
After all these years, after the grief, the loss, the hollow acceptance that she was gone—here she was. Alive.
Shock came first, sharp and paralyzing. Disbelief followed close behind, clawing its way through her mind. Then joy surged up from somewhere deep within her soul, so sudden and so intense it almost hurt. It filled her completely, pressing outward until it felt as though she might crack beneath it.
A darker thought slipped in just as quickly, souring the moment. A flicker of anger burned through her. Dena had known all along. All those questions, all those desperate attempts to pry the truth from her, and Thalora had been lying here the entire time, hidden, guarded, kept like some twisted secret.
It did not matter now. None of it did.
