The training grounds of Rose Heart sprawl before me, a testament to power and precision that still takes my breath away. Warriors move in coordinated patterns across the tiered fields, their movements sharp as blades, their discipline absolute.

I find Orvis on the First Ground, his dark hair damp with sweat, his body coiled with the easy tension of a predator at rest. He's watching a pair of younger warriors spar, his arms crossed, his expression carved from stone.

My heart ...