Lucian's POV.
I stand just behind Talon, the damp scent of freshly turned soil clinging to the air. The funeral is quiet, somber. Every rustle of wind through the trees feels too loud, too alive. I watch as they lower the small, hand-carved coffin into the earth; Morgana’s quiet sobs the only sound that matters.
And then —
A sharp intake of breath. A subtle shift in the air. I see Morgana freeze. My gaze follows hers — and finds Hope, standing still as stone at the edge of the treeline, barely visible in the dappled shadows. Her face is pale, her shoulders tense with guilt and sorrow. She doesn't move. She just stands there, watching.
My stomach drops.
I open my mouth, meaning to call out, to stop whatever's coming — but Morgana is already moving.
She storms across the clearing with
