Chapter 52. The Fractured Soul

Time no longer moved forward in any way Mira could measure. It folded in on itself, bleeding into a gray, endless blur of motion. She had long since lost count of the ridges and ravines that passed beneath their feet—her feet no longer, but paws. Paws that struck the earth with relentless rhythm, like a war drum echoing in an empty canyon. The world existed only in the loping gait of the wolf, in the wind that tore through the trees around them, in the ache of a body that was no longer hers.

Ismeria hadn’t shifted back once.

The wolf had claimed their shared form entirely, moving with wild purpose, tireless and unyielding. Every muscle moved with fluid precision, each bound carrying her further from the world she despised. She reveled in it—the taste of air sharp as knives in her lungs, the burn of her muscles, the intoxicating freedom of not belonging to anyone. No collars. No chains. No silks weighing her down.

But Mira was still there.

Buried somewhere dee