Kyren's POV
*****
"You." His fists clenched beside him, so much so that his nails dug into his skin.
The air outside chilled, the birds going quiet as if retreating from the woman standing in front of him.
Amara Redthorn.
His mother.
After all these centuries—
"I expected at least a hug for a woman you haven't seen in centuries." Amara spread out her arms, bringing down her hood with a flick of her wrist.
Her face was timeless. She still looked like she was in her late twenties even though she was far older than many witches out there.
Kyren never knew her exact age. But the ancient stories she's shared with him like she lived in them—that was a clear sign she was ancient herself.
"You really believe I would run into your arms?" He raised his right hand, ready to cast a spell. "Is this some kind of illusion? I already figured you were still alive after Garrick—"
