The morning after the trials was strangely quiet.
Not the kind of silence that comes with peace.
But the kind that whispers something is coming.
Liam sat at the edge of the stone balcony in their Paris safehouse, watching the golden sunrise wash over the city like spilled honey. Cassia slept curled in Nova’s arms, her breath steady, her lashes still fluttering from dreams soaked in flame and prophecy.
He should have felt triumphant.
Instead, he felt… watched.
“You’re up early,” Nova’s voice murmured behind him.
He didn’t turn. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Nova stepped beside him, her silk robe catching the breeze. “Neither could I.”
They stood in silence for a while, the wind rustling the quiet between them.
“She did it,” Nova finally whispered. “She passed the trials.”
Liam turned to look
