"She’s not just my sister anymore."
Magnolia’s voice echoed through the stone hall, hollow and bare. She stood at the long glass window near the east tower, watching as the estate’s outer lights flickered against the trees. Behind her, Rhett didn’t speak. Not yet. He knew better than to fill silence with comfort that wouldn’t land.
"She used to paint fireflies," Magnolia continued, her voice softer now, like it belonged to soone else. "Said they made her feel safe. She’d catch them in jars, then cry when they stopped glowing. But she still did it. Every ti. Like part of her didn’t know it would end the sa way."
"You think this is ending the sa way?" Rhett asked.
Magnolia turned, her face unreadable. "I think I stopped being the jar a long ti ago."
Rhett crossed the space between them and stood close, close enough to feel the heat coming off her skin, but not close enough to touch. "You don’t have to carry the weight of what she’s becoming alone."
"She’s my blood."
"She’s our problem now."
That pulled a small breath of laughter from her, dry and without humor. "That sounds about right."
She turned back to the window. Her reflection in the glass looked older than she felt. Not in years. In damage. In the slow, invisible bleed of what she’d already lost.
"We leave at moonrise," Rhett said. "Lucien’s preparing the supplies. Light gear. No insignias."
Magnolia nodded. "We go fast. We don’t engage unless they force it."
"And if they do?"
"Then we force harder."
She didn’t ask who he was bringing.
She already knew.
Only the ones who wouldn’t hesitate to die for them.
Savannah. Lucien. Kael. And Beckett, if he could walk again. She doubted he’d stay behind, even if his ribs were still broken. Especially not now.
"You still think she’s in there?" Rhett asked, voice low.
Magnolia answered without turning. "She gave a map."
"Could’ve been coerced."
"She left it under the totem I carved when we were nine."
He paused. "You think that matters?"
"I think whatever’s left of Camille is trying to claw her way back from sothing she didn’t ask for."
Rhett stepped beside her. "Then we get her back. Or we end whatever they put in her."
She looked up at him. "You really believe it can be undone?"
His jaw clenched. "I believe in you."
And for a second, just a breath, the weight lifted.
Then a knock at the chamber door shattered it.
Lucien entered, sharp and composed. "It’s ready."
He handed Rhett a satchel, maps, signal flares, a small vial of crushed moonstone mixed with silver shavings. Explosive when ignited.
"Any word from Beckett?" Magnolia asked.
"He’s awake," Lucien said. "But..."
"But what?"
"He doesn’t rember the mont he was attacked."
Magnolia frowned. "That’s not possible."
"He rembers finding Camille. Then running. Then... nothing."
Rhett t Lucien’s eyes. "You think he was glamoured?"
"Worse. I think sothing rewrote the mory."
"That’s Hollowfang blood magic."
"Exactly."
Magnolia ran a hand through her hair. "He shouldn’t co."
Lucien nodded. "Try telling him that."
Magnolia left the chamber.
She found Beckett in the healer’s wing, sitting on the edge of a cot with his ribs bandaged, one arm in a sling, and a stubborn scowl fixed on his face. The mont he saw her, he started to stand.
"You look like hell," he muttered.
"You’re not allowed to flirt if you can’t breathe properly."
He smirked. "I’m breathing enough."
She crossed the room and sat beside him. "Lucien says your mory’s patchy."
"That’s putting it gently."
"What do you rember?"
Beckett stared at the opposite wall for a mont. "Running. Shadows. Camille’s voice. Then... heat. Like sothing caught fire inside my skull."
"And since then?"
"Dreams. Mostly bad. Voices I don’t recognize. One keeps repeating your na."
Magnolia’s spine straightened. "Mine?"
"Like a warning. Or a plea."
She hesitated. "Do you want to stay behind?"
Beckett laughed, then imdiately winced, grabbing his ribs. "That’s adorable. You think I have a choice."
"You’re not at full strength."
"No one’s going to be at full strength when we find her."
She stared at him. "You really think she’s gone?"
He t her gaze. "I think part of her still wants you to find her. But I also think the other part, the thing that lives in her skin now, wants to bury you in the dirt before you get close."
She nodded. "I needed to hear it."
Beckett leaned back against the wall, exhaling slowly. "You ever think about running?"
"Often."
"Why don’t you?"
"Because she’d never forgive ."
"For leaving her?"
"For leaving myself."
He studied her profile in the dim light. "You know, I used to think you were the calm one. The quiet blade behind the throne."
"I’m not."
"No," he agreed. "You’re the storm they pretend doesn’t exist until it’s too late."
She stood. "Get so rest. We ride soon."
"I’ll be there."
"Bring your rage."
He grinned. "That’s the only thing not broken right now."
Night fell hard.
No stars. No wind.
Just the press of silence around the Callahan estate as five riders exited through the lower gates, cloaks wrapped tight, weapons hidden beneath leathers.
Magnolia rode at the front, Camille’s locket around her neck. It felt heavier than it should, like the weight of betrayal carved into tal.
Behind her rode Rhett, Lucien, Savannah, and Beckett, grim and ready.
No one spoke.
Not until they reached the ridge overlooking the Hollowdeep.
The forest here was thicker. The trees twisted together in unnatural ways, forming canopies that choked moonlight. The ground stead faintly. The scent of iron drifted up like a warning.
Rhett dismounted. "We go on foot from here."
They moved in silence, blades drawn, every sound magnified.
Birds didn’t sing here.
Wolves didn’t howl.
Even the wind had stopped.
Magnolia led them to the edge of a massive hollow, an ancient crater, ringed in bone totems and dead trees carved with runes.
The Broken Path.
Camille’s map had called it that.
The place where the bloodline shattered.
Savannah moved closer. "You sure about this?"
"No," Magnolia said. "But we’re out of ti."
She stepped into the crater.
The mont her boots touched the earth, the totems flared.
Blood-red light.
A sound, low and rhythmic, began to rise.
Like drums underwater.
Lucien drew his sword. "They know we’re here."
"No," Beckett whispered. "She knows."
Rhett reached for Magnolia’s hand. "Last chance to turn back."
She looked at him.
"I don’t turn back."
Then a voice echoed from the hollow.
Clear.
Familiar.
Wrong.
"Welco ho, sister."
They turned.
And Camille stepped from the shadows.
Or what was left of her.
Eyes black.
Hair pale and wild.
Runes carved into her arms.
A crown of woven bones sat on her brow.
And in her hands,
A blade etched with Magnolia’s na.
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