Amelia’s POV

The fireplace crackled, throwing shadows across the rug where Ryder and I sat cross-legged, knees brushing. Outside, a steady hush of snow thickened the woods, muffling the world. The scent of cedar and pine hung in the air, mingling with the herbal smoke of the incense Delilah gave us. We had lit three sticks. One for Lyra. One for Kieran. One for hope.

“Ready?” I asked softly.

Ryder nodded once, eyes shut, jaw tight.

We inhaled together. Held. Exhaled. Again. Again. ...