Aurora’s POV

The mountain air bit at my lungs, sharp and cold. The sky above was bruised with clouds, and the wind carried the faint scent of rain and iron.

I tightened the strap of the satchel across my shoulder and glanced down at the parchment in my hand, an herbal sketch drawn by Witch Elara herself.

The last ingredient we needed to purge the poison from Gray’s blood: Moonshade Aster, a plant said to bloom only under silver light, deep within the cliffs of the North Range.

Most called ...