Freya‘s pov.

The noise never stopped.

At first, it had been like whispers on the wind—fleeting, almost ignorable. But now the voices in my head were louder, sharper, more insistent. They didn’t just speak—they argued. Constantly. As if I wasn’t even there.

“She’s not listening again.”

“Because you’re always talking over me!”

“You don’t understand what she needs. You never did. I’ve protected her longer than you’ve ...