ZURI

The road home was long, and I could feel it in my bones. The air carried the heavy smell of wet soil and ash as the remains of the coven faded behind us.

What was once sacred had become a grave, and every gust of wind that brushed past my face felt like the whispers of the sisters I had lost. Isolde. Freya. Maelis. Their names echoed in my mind until it ached.

I sat quietly, leaning into Tyr’s chest as his arm circled me, his hand steady on the reins. The rhythm of the horse beneath ...