***TRICIA***

“Your mother is no longer with us.” The healer’s voice was soft but final, stripped of any comfort.

The words hit me like a stone. They landed deep in my chest, sharp and cold, and refused to leave. For a long moment, I could not think. I could only hear the beat of my heart—slow, uneven, wrong.

The healer’s face swam before me, small and pale. Her eyes were wet, though her mouth was firm. “I’m sorry,” she said, but the words were thin, fragile threads that broke ...