Dawn came like a lie.
The light that spread across the horizon held none of the warmth it once did. It was pale, strained—like the world itself was still recovering from the tear in the sky. The Blood Moon had faded, but its echo lingered in everything.
In the silence.
In the air.
In her.
Elara stood at the edge of the camp as the first rays of sunlight broke over the jagged mountains to the north.
Her destination.
Draven approached from behind, already dressed for travel, his expression sharp and focused.
"You ready?" he asked.
Elara didn't look away from the mountains.
"No."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"Good answer."
She finally turned to him.
"You still haven't told me what's waiting for us up there."
Draven's gaze flicked briefly toward the distant peaks.
Something dark passed through his expression.
"I told you enough."
"That it might break me?"
"Yes."
"That's not reassuring."
"It's not supposed to be."
Elara crossed her arms.
