Isadora:
The nightmare spits me awake.
I jolt upright in bed, heart thundering, lungs choking on phantom smoke. For a moment I can still see it—the ruins, the crimson sky splitting apart, fire chasing me through endless halls. My skin burns like it remembers every lick of flame, every scream echoing down the walls.
But the room is still. Quiet. Only the faint flicker of starlight spilling through the tall windows tells me I’m awake.
I’m not alone.
Kai is slumped in a chair in the alcove, an open book resting against his chest, his head tilted just enough that one golden curl shadows his cheek. His breathing is soft, steady. He must have fallen asleep while reading, keeping watch the way he always does.
But the others—
I twist, scanning the corners, the shadows, searching for Silas’s
