The sun had not yet risen, but the palace was already awake. Lanterns flickered in the eastern corridors, and the air was thick with tension — as though the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting for Aria’s decision.
She stood atop the marble terrace, wrapped in a cloak of midnight-blue velvet, the wind stirring strands of her hair. Below her, the Ember Circle gathered near the gates, their crimson cloaks a pool of blood against the pale stone. Their horses stood ready. Their silence was heavy with expectation.
Behind her, she heard the quiet steps she’d come to recognize without looking.
Damien.
He didn’t speak at first. The silence between them had grown strangely comforting — less like a wall, more like an understanding.
“I thought you might leave without saying goodby
