The mist didn’t lift with dawn.
Instead, it thickened.
It clung to the earth in ribbons of silver and gray, weaving between the trees like something with memory. The pine needles dripped quietly. The sky above the Crescent Moon territory was pale and colorless, as if the sun hadn’t quite made up its mind about rising.
Nova stepped out onto the front porch, River in her arms, bundled in a soft gray blanket. His head rested against her shoulder, and he let out a tiny sigh as the morning air brushed across his cheeks.
Kade followed behind her, still barefoot, sipping from a chipped black mug. “Still foggy,” he muttered, rubbing his temple.
Nova nodded but didn’t speak.
Something was wrong.
It wasn’t fear exactly—it was deeper than that. A hum beneath her skin. A stillness that made her
