The moon hung high over Arleta, its silver glow softening the harsh lines of the ruins and casting long shadows into the darkened forest.

The war was over.

The bond had been severed.

But peace? It was an illusion.

I stood at the edge of the northern cliffs, wind rushing past my face as I watched the trees sway below. Something was wrong. I couldn’t explain it, not even to Henry. But every inch of my skin felt prickled with warning, as if the Moon Goddess herself was whispering, Not ...