Morwenna's POV
Hope is a dangerous thing to give someone who’s tasted too much of the opposite. But I gave it anyway.
Not with words. Not with promises.
With blood.
Mine.
The battlefield still steamed behind us, a graveyard of broken steel and burned bodies. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Not from fear. From restraint. My power was no longer a whisper beneath my skin; it screamed, restless and raw, begging to be used again. I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust myself.
“Keep the survivors bound,” I told the captains. “I want the warlocks separated. No one touches their magic until I’ve seen them.”
Sabine’s face was a pale, blood-spattered blur beside me. “You need to rest.”
“I need to know who summoned her,” I snapped.
Liora trailed behind us, silent. She hadn’t spoken since the figh
