SKYE'S POV
The morning after our late night in the map room dawned with a brilliant, unclouded clarity that painted the rugged crags of the northern peaks in striking shades of violet and pale gold. High above the stone battlements of Nighthaven, a pair of mountain hawks circled lazily against the vast, azure canvas of the sky, riding the warm thermal currents that drifted up from the awakening valley below.
I stood by the wide casement window of our private chambers, taking a slow, deep breath of the crisp morning air. It carried the familiar, comforting perfume of pine resin, damp stone, and the rich, buttery scent of baking bread drifting up from Marta’s lower kitchens.
"If you stare at the horizon with that particular shade of administrative determination before you've even had your
