There was no falling.

There was no rising.

There was only being undone.

Elaria tried to breathe, but breath had never belonged to this place. The light that swallowed her in chapter 148 had not been illumination; it was remembrance, a force older than the first dawn, tearing open a seam inside her and pouring into it like molten memory.

The voice that claimed her — you were mine before you were born — followed her through the rupture, curling around her like smoke with weight, shadow ...