THE REFLECTIONI stood in front of the tall mirror in the corner of our room. The candles were low, casting long, flickering shadows against the walls. Esmeralda was fast asleep, her breathing a soft, rhythmic lullaby that kept me grounded.

I had my shirt off. I usually didn't like looking at myself like this. My body was a mess of history. There was a long, jagged white line across my shoulder from a silver blade ten years ago. There were puncture marks on my ribs from a rogue’s claws. There ...