Rissa’s POV

The pendant cracked.

As the whisper faded from the air and the moonstone split open like a wound, something slipped beneath my skin.

Not magic.

Memory.

A thread of another time tugged at me, and the room blurred at the edges, as if I were looking through misted glass. My knees weakened, though I didn’t exactly fall. It felt like falling inward.

And then, I was there again.

Three Years Ago

The hospice smelled faintly of lavender and antiseptic. Fresh sheets. Shallow ...