Kora’s POV
Morning came slowly — like the world itself was hesitant to open its eyes after what happened the night before. The forest still smelled faintly of burnt magic, and the air was heavy, quiet. Even the birds seemed unsure whether it was safe to sing again.
Edward was resting inside the packhouse infirmary, his wounds healing faster than I expected, but not fast enough to ease the knot in my chest. He’d brushed off what happened, saying it was “just a scratch,” but I knew better. The way he’d staggered when we returned, the paleness in his face, the tremor in his voice — it all told another story.
I stood by the window, watching the fog roll over the training grounds. My reflection in the glass looked strange — familiar, but foreign. My eyes, once bright and warm, now held a sha
