Fens P.O.V
I led the way from the estate, the morning light catching on the white-and-blue stone streets of Arasorne, glinting off the green-blue ocean beyond. The city was alive, bustling with fae and merchants, the tang of salt sharp in the air, but I barely registered it. My focus was on her. On Laine.
She followed, silent, careful. The flowing fabric of her sleeves brushed against her arms, shifting like water with each step. Her eyes darted from street to street, scanning, taking in every detail, though I could see the tension under her movements. Every glance, every pause, every hesitation was a thread I tracked, unraveling the knots of her inexperience.
The second trial was today. I could feel it in the subtle shifts of the wind, the faint tremor in the city’s pulse, and the almo
