Chapter Eighteen
Dawn broke over the stronghold with muted light, fog rolling across the valley like a slow tide. Lyra stood on the terrace, watching the mist weave between the trees and river, her mind still tangled in the fire of last night. The bond hummed, persistent, alive—Cain’s heat, Elias’s calm, both pulling her in directions she hadn’t let herself fully go before.
Cain appeared first, silent as shadowed stone. His presence brushed against her without touching, the familiar weight of him pressing into the edges of her awareness. “The scouts report more movement,” he said quietly, voice low and rough. “The coalition isn’t waiting—they’re testing boundaries, probing for weaknesses.”
Lyra didn’t respond immediately. She let the tension from last night linger, savoring the pull of
