Moira's POV

The funeral pyre crackles against the gray morning sky, orange flames devouring the ceremonial wood that will carry Nolan home to the Moon Goddess. The scent of burning pine mingles with the salt of too many tears.

I stand between Logan and Lucas, their rigid shoulders broadcasting the guilt that's been eating them alive since Casper's defeat three days ago. Neither of them has slept. Neither has spoken more than necessity ...