The moment Magnolia opened the door to Camille's room, she knew something was wrong.
The scent of lavender that usually lingered faintly in the space had faded. The hearth had gone cold. The bed lay empty, sheets thrown aside in disarray. The windows were open wide, letting in a gust of wind that tossed the sheer curtains like restless spirits.
But it was the silence that screamed the loudest.
Magnolia stepped inside, her boots soundless against the stone. Her heart pounded not with fear, but with knowing. The mark on her palm began to throb again, faintly glowing beneath the linen wrap. The bond stirred like a creature half-woken from sleep, clawing beneath her skin.
She whispered her sister's name, once.
No response.
She crossed the room quickly, leaned out the window, and saw the footprints below. Bare. Light. Leading away from the estate and into the dark horizon where the forest trees blurred against the purple sky.
Magnolia didn't call for help.
She didn't hesitate.
