WHEN THE QUIET STARTS TO CHANGE
Morning came gently.
Not with alarm or urgency, but with a pale stretch of light slipping through the narrow windows of the keep, touching stone, fabric, skin. The pack woke slowly that day, as though the land itself was careful not to disturb something fragile.
Elara noticed it first when she opened her eyes.
Kael was gone.
For a moment, panic flared — sharp and irrational — before she remembered where she was. His chambers. The faint scent of pine and steel still clung to the air. The bed beside her was cold now, the sheets pulled smooth, deliberate. Kael had always moved like that. Controlled. Quiet. As though even his absence followed rules.
She sat up, pressing her feet to the floor, heart still beating a little too fast.
The events of the night
