Emily Rosewood’s Point of View.
The Frostpine Exiles’ Stronghold, nine weeks and thirteen days after the gate closed
“Aelon,” Nessa whispered again, her voice trembling like a fragile thread of moonlight. “I heard it. Not spoken, but… etched inside me. Like it was always there, waiting to be remembered.”
The chamber had fallen silent. Even the low hum of the Heart Shard seemed to pause, as though the crystal itself were listening.
I sat frozen beside her, heart hammering against my ribs so hard I could feel it in my throat.
I had heard the stories of Aelon as a child—half-remembered bedtime myths spun by Hollow seers. The First Shifter. The one who gave up his human soul to guard the Gate of Worlds. A martyr. A myth.
But if Nessa carried his bloodline… that meant the old blood wasn’t
