|| Lilac’s POV ||

The forest smelled wrong.

Not the usual crisp pine and loam of the Nightshade woodlands— this air hung thick with the cloying sweetness of moonbloom and something darker beneath it, like rotting petals left too long in water. My boots sank into the damp earth as I stepped into the clearing, each footprint filling immediately with silver-tinged water that reflected the fractured moonlight above.

This is a place of endings.

The thought came ...