Night fell over the camp like a shroud.
The air smelled of ash, sweat, and suppressed fear. From where they kept me prisoner—a secluded section among the ruins of the old wall—I could see the torches flickering in the distance like watchful eyes. The wind carried the chants of Mara’s followers: hoarse voices, drunk on fanaticism, repeating their war hymns.
I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Serena’s face—first alive, then dead, then twisted into that soulless abomination.
And behind it all, I saw Ethan.
Always Ethan.
His face was the spark that kept the fire inside me burning.
He was the one who had killed her.
The one who had started the chain of misfortunes that hollowed me out.
The one who, even dead, would still breathe through my hatred.
And yet n
