Miranda.
Cassian's eyes narrowed, blood boiling. "Coward," he growled, scanning the treeline. "You won't get away this time."
She laughed, echoing from nowhere and everywhere. "You still don't understand, do you? I was never the only one. I'm just the first to move."
Another surge of power slammed into him, and this time, he hit the ground hard, struggling to breathe as the invisible grip tightened around his throat like a noose of smoke and spellwork.
For the first time in years, Cassian felt vulnerable.
And utterly alone.
Cassian's vision blurred, the forest spinning in and out of focus. His limbs felt sluggish, too heavy—like they didn't belong to him anymore.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
One moment, Miranda had been standing before him—taunting, smug, her voice like poison on the wind.
The next… she was gone.
Vanished into the shadows.
Yet her voice still echoed in his ears—mocking, twisted, everywhere.
