Morrigan

They said the last heir of the Abyssal bloodline drowned in the trenches eight years ago. They were wrong.

Morrigan has spent every cold, lightless year since building two things: her claim and her magic — a siren's pull so powerful it bends perception, bends will, bends men. The cost is hers alone to pay, and she pays it in memories. Every guard she's unmade has taken something from her she will never get back.

Tonight — Tide Equinox, the gate thin, the timing perfect — she arrives at the palace that should have been hers. She had no intention of paying the price again.

Then you looked at her. Not through the glamour. At her.

That wasn't part of the plan.