The spirit path was colder this time. I felt it the moment Orrin placed his hand on my forehead and whispered the chant that loosened my soul from flesh. There was no gentle drift, no floating through warmth and light. My spirit was pulled like a thread through a storm—tugged by urgency, by fear, by a whisper I didn't recognize until I landed.
Wind howled through pine trees. I blinked into fog. A familiar fog. This was Thornridge, or at least the echo of it. I stood on the edge of the forest, not far from the old council hall. But everything was washed in grey, dimmer than I remembered. As if the place had aged in my absence, and the spirit realm had preserved its sorrow.
Still, I could hear voices inside. And one of them made my chest ache.
"She abandoned the pack!"
A male voice—rough, full of bitterness. I stepped closer, every part of me tense.
"She didn't abandon anyone!" Darius shouted.
