Aria’s POV
We didn’t sleep. Not really.
The pack sprawled by the quarry fire, weapons close, eyes half-shut. Ten years teaches you to rest without letting go. But the tension was different tonight.
Lighter. Like a bowstring that had been pulled too tight for too long finally loosened one notch.
I stayed awake.
Not because of fear. Because of the stone.
The ward-stone at the quarry kept pulsing. Not the Warden’s usual heartbeat. Faster. Intentional. Like someone tapping their fingers on a table, waiting for you to look up.
I got up, quiet so I wouldn’t wake the others. The air was cold, but the ground was warm under my palm when I pressed it to the stone.
“Warden?” I whispered.
The pulse shifted. Not words. Impressions. Old ones.
Mark.
Name.
Remember.
Then the stone wen
