Scarlett’s POV

I wake with a start, heart hammering against my ribs, breath ragged and shallow. The remnants of a dream cling to me, vivid, unforgiving. A blade—no, the blade—shimmering with bone and fire, etched with runes I don’t recognize it, forged in shadows and blood. It hums with purpose, alive with intention, and the very image of it burns behind my eyelids as though my mind has stolen it from reality itself.

I sit up, shivering despite the warmth of my blankets. Something about ...