Aria’s POV ....

The morning broke with a pale silver light that seeped through the thin fabric of the tent. My eyelids fluttered open, and for the first time since my escape, I felt… still. Not healed, not whole — but still.

The air smelled of pine and smoked meat drifting from the campfires. Warriors murmured outside, footsteps thudding, children crying, elders whispering. There was urgency everywhere. War was coming.

But for now, I had a few breaths of quiet.

I stretched ...