The wind outside screamed like a warning.
Inside the ruined chapel, the air was still, too still. The only sound was the dripping of wax and the slow, shaky rhythm of Aria's breath.
The circle was drawn, a jagged mark of salt, ash, and old blood. In the middle stood the Mirror Flame, a glass bowl filled with dark liquid that shimmered like oil. Elias whispered the last words of the old spell, his voice trembling.
Lorenzo stood behind Aria, his hand on her shoulder, his touch steady but burning.
He looked at her reflection in the dark flame and said quietly, "Once we start, there's no turning back."
Aria nodded. "We already passed the point of no return."
She reached for the flame. The liquid moved, almost alive, whispering back to her in voices she couldn't understand. For a second, she saw her own face… and behind it, another. Silas's cold eyes staring through her.
Her hand shook.
"Do it," Elias urged. "Before the light fades."
