Arya placed her thumb against the sharp metal protruding from the mirror’s hidden safe. The prick was sharp and quick, a bead of blood welling up instantly. The metal retracted with a soft mechanical hiss, followed by a deep click as ancient locks gave way. The door of the safe creaked open, revealing what lay inside.

Her breath caught.

An old, thick book, its leather cover worn but unnaturally strong, sat beside a small, sleek device. The contrast between them — one ancient, the other unnervingly advanced — sent a chill through Arya’s spine.

Isabel’s breath hitched. “I thought that was destroyed during the final battle between the Order and...