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The stronghold had never felt smaller.
Aria walked its stone corridors like a ghost, the weight of every stare pressing on her skin. The wolves’ suspicion was quiet but present, their whispers hushed when she passed, their eyes sharp and unblinking. It wasn’t just because of the prisoner’s dying words. It was because of Kael.
His fury still lingered in the walls. His command had been clear: no one was to leave the stronghold without his word. Patrols had doubled, guards rotated in restless shifts. The storm gathering outside was mirrored within.
And at the eye of it, Aria burned.
Her fire refused to stay silent. Every hour it pressed harder, licking at the edges of her ribs, aching for air. Sparks danced at her fingertips when she wasn’t careful. She’d taken to wearing gloves just
