It started with the birds.
Silence at first.
Then a sudden explosion of wings, bursting from the trees like they’d seen a ghost. Or worse.
Aelira sat up fast, the blanket falling from her shoulders. Her skin still carried the echo of Astren’s hands, the heat of his mouth. But whatever peace they’d stolen the night before shattered in an instant.
Something had changed.
Astren was already pulling on his shirt, eyes scanning the tree line. “Do you feel that?”
She didn’t answer. She was too busy trying to breathe.
Because something inside her was pulling again. Tightening. Like invisible threads wrapping around her ribs and tugging—downward. Inward. Toward the altar that had cracked open days ago and never stopped whispering since.
“Aelira,” Vess called, stumbling into the clearing, he
