Spring arrived in full, and with it, a strange sense of urgency. Mira could feel the season changing in her body—the same way she had once felt the flow of magic, the movement of power through the ley lines of the Thornwood. She did not have magic anymore, not in any usable sense, but she still had this: the ability to sense the world around her, to feel the rhythm of it, the pulse. And the pulse of spring was fast, vital, alive. Everything was growing. Everything was reaching toward the light....