The first time it happened, he was training.

The sun was barely up. The Crescent Moon training yard was alive with clashing blades and grunts of warriors in motion. Darius moved with ease, his sword slicing through the air. He lived in discipline, precise, cold, and focused.

Until something strange happened.

He was sparring with one of the younger warriors when his grip faltered.

A sharp pull tore through his chest.

He stumbled back, eyes wide. His heart slammed against his ribs like it ...