The borderlands of Moonrise territory lay in a quiet, uncertain space—a realm caught between worlds. Moonlight wove through the mist, and the air was thick with the scent of pine and the faint, metallic tang of fear that seemed more a memory than a present threat. The trees grew dense, their trunks thick with ancient bark that seemed to whisper of dangers long past.
Aria Hartfield walked along the shadowed path at the border, her steps steady but quiet, her cloak drawn tight, her hood pulled low to hide her face from the occasional patrols. She had slipped away from the guesthouse without a word, leaving only a note on her pillow: I need air. The warmth of the protectors she had left behind faded quickly in the distance. Tonight, her mind was a storm, her body weighed down by exhaustion a
