ASHER'S POV
I don't trust the silence.
Not out here. Not in this part of the woods.
The rogue outpost is supposed to be dead, abandoned for over a year. No movement, no heat signatures, and no intel that says otherwise. But I am standing in the middle of this clearing, and my skin is crawling like it knows something I don't.
And I have learned to trust my instincts.
The scroll from the dying messenger is in my back pocket, tucked next to my blade. "The Harvesting." That one word lit a fire in my chest that I couldn't put out. And now I am here, trying to make sense of it, alone. I didn't tell the Blades. Didn't tell Mum. Not even Dad. I needed to see it for myself.
The first thing I notice is the scent. Smoke. Faint, but not from a fire that is long gone. It is fresh. L
