The vision hadn't shown her that part. It had ended with Jasmine's shallow breathing, her body utterly still, the island beginning to wither around her. But Sophia knew—somehow, in the marrow of her bones, she knew—that the island hadn't let her mother go. Not completely.
The island had shared knowledge and then later consciousness with Jasmine, connecting her to the Island. When she fell into that coma, when her magic went dormant to protect the infant Sophia, the island had responded. It had wrapped around her like a cocoon, preserving what it could of the woman who'd given it life.
Somewhere in that other dimension, in a place between worlds that was slowly dying without its creator's consciousness, Jasmine's body still lay. Not dead. Not alive. Suspended in the same terrible limbo that had claimed her mind thirty years ago.
And if Sophia became what they wanted her to be—if she embraced this destiny, this power, this impossible role—would she be strong enough to reach across dimensions and wake her mother? Or would trying only kill them both?
But that girl was gone. Burned away in the cosmic fire of truth and prophecy and impossible destiny. She could mourn her, but she couldn't bring her back.
"Okay," Sophia heard herself say. "Okay. I'll go to your safe house. But I need..." She swallowed hard, meeting Alexander's eyes. "I need you to promise me something. No more lies. No more manipulation or half-truths or keeping me in the dark for my own good. If we're doing this—if you're really my mates or protectors or whatever—then I need honesty. Complete, brutal honesty, even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard. Can you do that?"
She saw them exchange glances again, but this time Alexander nodded immediately. "We can do that. I promise you, Sophia—no more secrets. You want to know something, you ask, and we'll tell you everything we know."
It wasn't enough. It couldn't be enough to fix what had been broken, to heal the betrayal of learning she'd been watched and manipulated for a year. But it was a start. And right now, with her world crumbling around her and a destiny she didn't want pressing down on her shoulders, a start was all she could manage.
"Then let's go," she said, forcing herself to stand even though her legs felt unsteady. "Because I have about a thousand questions, and I'm not sure I can be in this club for another minute without losing my mind completely."
Marc rose smoothly and offered her his arm. After a moment's hesitation, she took it, letting him steady her as the room spun slightly. The alcohol had long since burned out of her system, but the aftereffects of her awakening left her feeling drunk in a different way—untethered, floating, like gravity had become optional.
As they moved toward the door, Sophia caught sight of her reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar. For just a moment, her eyes flashed golden—bright, otherworldly, unmistakably inhuman. Then they faded back to brown, and she was just herself again.
Except she wasn't. She would never be just herself again.
The daughter of two worlds. The impossible child. The prophesied empress.
Sophia was gone. And whoever she was becoming, whoever she was meant to be—that was the terrifying question she'd have to answer.
Starting tonight.