Rosie’s P.O.V
Grief has a way of haunting even the most silent spaces. After the battle, our house was quieter than it had been in years. Not peaceful, never peaceful, but hushed. As if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the next blow.
Eleanor’s death lingered like smoke. Not just because she was powerful, but because it made no sense.
No one had seen it happen. Not clearly. There had been too many screams, too much blood, too many spells ricocheting off stone and bone alike. Some said she was burned. Others claimed she was dragged into the forest by a creature conjured in the chaos. A few whispered that maybe she had vanished by choice, faking her death to disappear like a ghost. But i knew better. I saw Dan. I saw the agony in his face. That wasn’t the grief of a man whose
