VANESSA'S POV
The sacred grove, once a place of healing, was now a stage for a desperate gambit. The moon, once a source of power, was now a cold, watchful eye. The air, once filled with the joy of renewal, was now thick with tension and the metallic scent of fear.
Adrien's command hung in the silence, brutal and absolute. You are the bait.
There was no discussion. No alternative. The terrifying efficiency of the enemy's attacks left no room for debate. They were a ghost, and you don't fight a ghost by chasing its whispers. You lure it into the light.
The cult leader was dragged into the clearing, his broken arm still in its cast, his wintery eyes alight with a malicious curiosity. He was forced to his knees at the edge of the cleansed altar stone. He didn't struggle. He looked amused.
