Elin’s POV

The detention cell’s iron door creaked open in morning light, and I still huddled under the thin blanket, Istha’s growl ebbing like a receding tide, leaving only exhaustion’s wake. Last night’s darkness inked me to sleep, dreams swirling Clara’s cold sneer, blade’s chill gleam, and Aaron’s shadow—his arms warm yet distant, murmurs of “I’ve got you” whispering like wind-scattered snow. Waking, eyes gritty-sore, heart dead-ash.

Love-hate yanked through ...