POV: Clara 

The first thing I felt was cold. 

Not air-cold. Bone-cold. The kind that seeps in when something living starts to fade. The fire in the den was out, leaving only faint ribbons of smoke curling up from blackened wood. The air was too still. Even the house seemed to be holding its breath.

My body wouldn’t obey me. The tether burned in my ribs, a weak, uneven rhythm. Not pain exactly—just emptiness. Like something had been taken. 

The light beneath my ...