DYERAs I step out of the den into the cold evening air, the frost in the air bites, sharp and unforgiving, but it barely registers against the ice that has settled inside me. I step further outside and the world feels unreal, too bright, too loud, too alive while a part of me is still trapped in shadow.

I think of Aila. Her death. I should feel relief that her control over me is gone. I should. But all I feel is a hollow, bitter knot.

And then there’s her.

Aislyn.

Her name tastes like fire ...