Thalia’s POV:
"Rest isn’t really in my vocabulary right now," I snapped, my voice hoarse but laced with fire. My bones ached, my skin burned, and the wolf inside me gnawed at my ribs like a caged beast. "There’s no time.”
Mira raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. The witch’s cabin smelled of dried herbs and something darker—iron, maybe. Or blood. "You have to listen to your wolf," she said, stirring a murky liquid in a chipped ceramic bowl. "If you don’t, it’ll tear you apart from the inside out."
I swallowed hard, tasting bitterness. "It’s not just about me."
Her gaze softened, just a fraction. "I know. But you can’t help anyone if you collapse first."
A growl rumbled in my chest, low and feral. The sickness inside me pulsed, a living thing, feeding on my strength. My vision blu
