Mira’s POV

They thought I was resting. My body remained still. My eyes closed again. But I wasn’t gone. I was searching. The fragments of the third mark floated beneath the surface. Disconnected. Damaged. But still dangerous.

The tether was broken, but the anchor remained. Somewhere, there was a root. Something physical. A binding object or record. I felt it buried. Not in my mind. In the real world. I searched my own memories.

“An old box locked.’’ Hidden beneath floorboards in my ...