A bitter laugh spilled from the old woman's lips—a jarring sound that hung in the air between us. Her pitch-black eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward, her face inches from mine.
"I am no nanny, child," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper that raised goosebumps along my arms. "I am no mortal servant."
My breath hitched in my throat. "Then what—"
"Look closer," she commanded.
I stared into those bottomless eyes, and as I watched, something within them shifted. The darkness receded like an ebbing tide, revealing eyes of startling blue—so vibrant they seemed to glow from within. Eyes that mirrored my own.
"Mother?" I whispered, my voice breaking on the word.
Her ancient face softened with a smile. "Not precisely. I am her magic, her essence—the part of her that she could spare while her physical form remains imprisoned at the Lunar Gate, keeping Erebus contained."
My mind spun with this revelation. "She's alive? My mother is alive?"
