POV: Amara Kings
I crashed through the bush, branches whipping my face as I ran. Behind me, Elias called my name, but I couldn't stop. Not with Celeste's sacrifice still burning in my mind. Not with the Ancient One—The Mother—still partly alive.
Viktor's spirit had pulled Celeste back from total destruction, but The Mother had fled. I could feel her, a dark shadow racing ahead of me toward the ritual spot Celeste had warned about.
"Amara, wait!" Elias shouted.
But there was no time. The moon was rising, blood-red and full. The Mother would finish her ritual, and everything—my pack, my brother, my mate—would be lost.
I burst into an area and froze. Seven stone pillars made a perfect circle in the center. The ground between them was carved with strange symbols that glowed purple in the moonlight. And there, in the middle, stood The Mother.
She looked different now—weaker, more transparent, like a ghost. But her eyes still burned with that terrible purple fire.
