Aurora’s P.O.V

The air was thick with the scent of iron, the weight of the moment pressing down on me like an unseen force. I watched, my body frozen in place, as Harmona reached for a lever on the wall, her fingers wrapping around it with the kind of reverence one would give a sacred relic. My breath hitched when she pulled it down, and the ceiling groaned in response, parting to let in the ominous glow of the sun. But it wasn't the warm, golden light of hope—it was fractured, ...