Elena woke before dawn with heat in her veins. It was not a fever, nor illness, but power — rhythmic and alive — pulsing through her like a second heartbeat. Something ancient inside her had stretched awake after centuries of silence. She sat up slowly, breath shallow, palms tingling as awareness sharpened around her. The truce line hummed beyond the walls of the house, and she could feel it without stepping outside. That had never happened before. The energy was no longer confined to the soil. It lived inside her now, braided through bone and blood.
A soft knock touched her door.
“Elena?”
Rowan’s voice was low, threaded with concern.
She rose and crossed the room, bare feet brushing cool wood. When she opened the door, Rowan froze in the doorway. His pupils widened, gold eyes darkenin
