The wind howled against the ancient stone walls, rattling the wooden shutters of the Sanctum of Solara. The convent sat alone on a jagged cliffside, the only light for miles the dim glow of oil lamps flickering in narrow windows.

Inside, the air was cold and smelled faintly of incense and old wood. The sisters moved through the halls in silence, their steps soft against the worn flagstones. Among them was Elara, a young novice who had only been within these walls for six months.

She was ...