Kieran P.O.V.
Dawn comes too fast.
The cold in Moonshadow’s training grounds bites deeper than Crescent Shadow’s ever did. Frost clings to the dirt, glittering like shards of broken stars beneath the first gray wash of morning. My breath fogs in front of me, dissolving in the stillness.
Lucian stands to my left—calm, controlled, but alert. Solas is to my right, posture relaxed, but impossible to read. His attention moves like a predator’s: still, then sharply focused, then still again.
And across from me stands Elder Thane.
No cloak. No staff. No display of ancient power. Just a simple sweater, worn boots, and eyes that look like they’ve watched centuries weather themselves into dust.
Shade stirs once. We could still leave. Drag Solas, Lucian, and the old wolf with us and run screami
