Aria didn't move.
Her body felt rooted to the ground, her wolf frozen in shock. Her silver-glowing eyes stared at the figure in the doorway—the girl with long blonde hair, trembling lips, and wide, tearful eyes.
"Elena?" Aria's voice cracked like dry wood.
The girl nodded. "It's me."
Silence pressed down on the room like a heavy snowfall. Caleb stood at Aria's side, mouth open in disbelief. Rowan tensed beside the cracked fireplace, hand already drifting toward the dagger at his belt. Even Lyra, bruised and breathless on the ground, seemed too stunned to speak.
It wasn't possible.
But Aria knew. Deep in her bones, in the way her soul shifted in recognition, she knew.
Her baby sister was alive.
Aria stumbled forward, tears already burning her eyes. Elena didn't hesitate—she flew into Aria's arms with a sob. The warmth of her was real. Solid. Alive.
"I thought you were gone," Aria whispered, burying her face in Elena's hair. "I tried to save you. I thought I failed."
