The old temple ruins had once been cold and forgotten. Now, sunlight poured through the broken arches, spilling gold over healer’s tables and makeshift beds. Ivy crept along the stones, softened by wildflowers placed in jars beside folded cloth and salves. The great altar—once used for ancient rites—now held water bowls, baskets of herbs, and the quiet rhythm of wolves tending each other with care.
Aria lay at the heart of it all.
Wrapped in blankets, propped up with pillows, her skin still pale, her hands wrapped in linen, she looked like someone pulled back from the edge of something fierce. Her breath came slowly but steadily. The fire she’d called still flickered behind her eyes.
Xander sat beside her, shoulders hunched. Not with defeat, but with something quieter. Something heavier
