CATRIONA

I didn’t blink.

That burning stare of his—too ancient, too knowing—bore into me like a thousand tiny needles, sharp with secrets.

“I locked your precious guardians away,” he said, his voice a rumble, deep and cracked like old wood. “They can’t help you now. Not here. Not anywhere.”

My breath hitched. “You’re not one of them.”

A smile curved his lips. Cold. Cruel.

“You’re a sharp girl.”

I took a slow step back—but the air around me tightened like invisible ropes. I couldn’t move.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked softly. “Don’t you want to know who you really are? Why you were born? Why I’ve watched...