Book Six: Chapter 91

The woman lifted her head, tilting it slightly downward as if measuring Jack from the bridge of her nose. The motion was deliberate, slow, and commanding, like a predator assessing its prey, but with the air of someone intimately familiar with every corner of their own power.

She wore a simple dressing gown, a soft cream fabric that draped over her figure without ornamentation. It gave the impression that she had been roused from sleep only moments ago, yet the intensity in her gaze suggested she had been awake far longer than that. There was a fierceness to her presence—familiar in an almost visceral way, yet deeply unsettling. Jack felt a shiver trace the line of her spine, instinctively bracing herself.

“Who… who are you?” Jack’s voice wavered. She lifted her hand to the mirror, and to her surprise, the woman mirrored the movement, palm against glass as if acknowledging the connection. Th