Petal's POV

The air inside the healing chamber was heavy with the scent of wet earth, crushed leaves, and smoke from burning sage.

I had been awake since before dawn, kneeling beside the wooden table strewn with mortar bowls and bundles of herbs. My fingers were stained green and brown from grinding roots, my palms raw. Every surface was covered with bottles, cloths, jars, steam rising from copper pots. The once-quiet space now pulsed with the desperate rhythm of work.

Aslaan’s return had ...