Page 52 of A Touch of Madness

Calidora studies me for a long moment, then sighs. “We don’t know yet.”

Something inside me frays. “Youdon’t know?”

She folds her hands in front of her. “The Mirror was our strongest lead. But magic is not always solely bound to relics. There may be another way.”

Lucian’s fingers graze mine—the smallest touch, grounding. “The elder is right. You’ve done enough for now, Sylvie. Let us work on things while you rest.”

But it doesn’t feel likeenough. It feels like I’ve failed.

Calidora continues, her hands laced together in front of her, “We’re looking into alternative methods. You are uniquely tied to your sister, more than any spell or object. Your bond as twins, your shared lineage, and the magic inside you—it’s all connected. There may be a way to channel that, but it will take time.”

My throat tightens. “I don’t have time.”

Calidora’s gaze hardens. “Then make it. You must learn not everything is an automatic fix, Sylvie.”

Her words land like a blow.

She’s right. Even if it feels like every second wasted is another second Lara slips further away… I can’t keep going like this.

I exhale, pressing my fingers against my temples. “I need to see her. To know she’s okay. I haven’t seen her since those photos at the school were captured of her.”

Lucian’s voice is quiet but firm. “She won’t come to you willingly.”

Rebecca shifts beside me. “And if we need her for a ritual, we’ll have to find a way to bring her in.”

A chill rolls down my spine. “You’re saying we’ll have to force her.”

No one says anything. But the answer is obvious.

Nicole frowns, hesitant. “Sylvie, if there’s even a chance that your blood can bring her back… we have to try.”

I close my eyes. I know.

But Lara won’t let us try. Not as she is now.

I swallow hard, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Then we find her.”

Lucian nods. “And when we do, we’ll be ready.” He pauses. “If, that is, you rest in the meantime and let the rest of us help you in the way you’ve helped us.” He places a kiss to my hand and strokes loose hair tendrils from my face.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for what’s coming.

But I will save my sister.

Even if it kills me.

War doesn’t end the moment the last blow is struck. It lingers. It clings to the air, settles into the bones of those who survive, coils in the silence left behind. I’ve seen it before—the way battles end but never truly finish. The way ghosts of the fallen never quite fade.

But this time, it’s different.

Not because of the bodies left in the dirt or the ruins of what once stood strong. Not because we dismantled the Solstice Society, reduced its leaders to prisoners waiting for an end that will not come quickly. Not even because of the blood we spilled or the magic we severed.

Because of her.

Sylvie.

I see her even now, standing in the wreckage of the battle, light pouring from her like something celestial. The moment she shattered the Mirror, the very air seemed to shudder, as though the world itself felt the shift in power. She was stronger than I had ever imagined. More dangerous. More powerful. And then—she collapsed.

I don’t remember the moment my arms caught her, only the weight of her body as she crumbled. I remember the way her skin felt cold, how her breath barely stirred against my chest. I carried her through the trees, through the ruins of what we had destroyed, each second stretching impossibly long between heartbeats. For the first time in centuries, I felt something akin to terror.

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