SKYE'S POV
The journey back to Nighthaven was not a triumphal march, but a tense, silent procession through a kingdom whose joints were beginning to c***k.
The gray fog that had swallowed the valley during the trial did not lift; instead, it clung to the sides of the carriages, thick and damp, smelling of sulfur and wet earth. Behind us, the sacred peaks receded into the gloom like ancient, jagged teeth, but the memory of their trembling remained under my skin. The amber hum was back, but it wasn't the steady, comforting pulse it had been before the duel. It was erratic, sharp, and hungry, vibrating in the marrow of my bones as if the mountain itself were pacing behind my ribs, waiting for me to give it a direction.
Inside the royal carriage, the silence was heavy, broken only by the rh
