*Saoirse*

The ancient spirit of Shylah continued to surge around me, wrapping itself around my consciousness like a relentless vine. I was there, yet not, a silent observer in the prison of my flesh. My heart hammered against the cage of my ribs, each beat a reminder of the life growing inside me—a life that Shylah seemed to care little about.

"Shylah," Axureon's voice was calm, but it carried an underlying strength that always seemed to command attention. "What is it ...