The Omega Festival had ended in a sea of fireworks, laughter, and slightly burnt stew.

Celeste was still wiping glitter off her arms as she collapsed into a chair beside Hunter in the courtyard. The lanterns had been dimmed. Pups were being gathered by sleepy parents, and somewhere near the firepit, Lisa was still arguing with Logan about whether confetti counted as a weapon. It had been a perfect day.

Until the cloaked figure arrived.

The air rippled faintly as the woman stepped out from ...