Ember did not mean to follow him.
At least, that was what she told herself as her feet carried her in the same direction Evan had taken only moments ago. It had become a habit of sorts, one she had not consciously chosen yet somehow found herself repeating. Whenever he left abruptly, drawn by some unseen storm within him, she felt pulled after him, as though the land itself whispered his name into her bones.
The training grounds lay open beneath the pale afternoon sky, vast and raw, carved into the earth by years of battle and discipline. The scent of sweat, iron, and crushed grass lingered heavily in the air.
Evan was already there.
He moved like fury given form.
Each strike landed with brutal precision, muscles coiling and releasing beneath his shirt, his breathing heavy, uneven, as
