Freya‘s pov.

Idra’s eyes darted left, then right. Her breath hitched. For a moment, the arrogance melted from her face, and in its place was something raw, something fearful.

She realized it.

She was trapped.

The ritual circle shimmered around us, glowing with power that didn’t belong to her.

"Morana," she hissed into the ether, trying to regain composure, "can you hear me? Used my own trap against me? Clever. But you know the price."

Then her gaze ...