Maren stood before the altar, her human form blemish-free, despite the violence that had occurred here only hours ago. No wounds marred her skin, no blood stained her clothes, she just wore a simple black dress and her famous red cloak. Her silver eyes reflected the altar's glow as she traced her fingers over the spiral, feeling the power thrumming beneath the stone.
Footsteps approached from the north, measured and unhurried. Maren didn't turn, didn't need to. She knew those footsteps as well as her own heartbeat.
"You're alive," Mallory Woods said as she emerged from the treeline.
"The altar restored me," Maren replied, her voice the purr of a satisfied predator. "The spirit realm doesn't let its chosen die so easily. Not when there's work left to do."
Mallory approached the altar, her gaze sweeping over the clearing. The bloodstains were still visible in the grass, Maren's blood, the Moonbloods' blood, all of it. "The human woman. Angela Rivers. She escaped."
