Ronan hadn’t truly slept in days.
Every time he closed his eyes, the same dream found him.
He stood alone in a field beneath a black moon.
The wind carried the scent of smoke and blood.
Far ahead, a woman dressed in flowing black robes stood with her back to him.
He couldn’t see her face.
But somehow…
He knew it was Kaelira.
She turned slowly.
Her silver eyes had become completely black.
Then she smiled.
Not with kindness.
With sorrow.
“You’re late,” she whispered.
The ground beneath Ronan’s feet split open.
Thousands of hands reached out from the darkness, grabbing at his legs.
He tried to run.
He couldn’t move.
The woman lifted a bloodstained dagger.
“Do it.”
Ronan shook his head.
“No…”
“You promised.”
“I can’t.”
“You already did.”
She pointed behind him.
Ronan
