POV: Luna Seraphina Winters (Spirit)
I pushed through the veil between life and death, fighting against the currents that tried to pull me back. Eighteen years I'd waited for this moment. Eighteen years trapped in the spirit world, watching my daughter suffer without being able to help her.
Until now.
Amara slumped against the wall of the abandoned house where Celeste had left her. Blood soaked through her shirt from the wound an assassin had given her before they fled. Her eyes fluttered, awareness slipping away.
"Amara!" I called, my voice like wind through leaves. "Stay awake!"
She blinked, looking around the dim room. "Who's there?"
I gathered my strength, pulling energy from the moonlight streaming through the broken window. Slowly, my form took shape – fuzzy at first, then clearer.
Amara's eyes widened. "Mom?"
My heart – or what left of it – ached at that single word. She recognized me, even though she'd been just a baby when I died.
"Yes, sweetheart. It's me."
