Petal's Pov

The camp was quieter than it had been in weeks.

A strange peace had fallen, thin and fragile, like glass stretched over a storm. The moon hung low, swollen and bright, bathing the clearing in a cold silver glow. Tomorrow night, that same moon would judge us.

The Rite of Souls.

I’d thought I was ready. After days of fasting, training, and silence, I should have been numb to fear. But as darkness deepened, my thoughts refused to still. Every breath came shallow, restless, like ...