Rafael's Point of View
My alarm has not even gone off when my eyes open.
The early sunlight filters weakly through the blinds, cutting pale lines across the floor. For a few seconds, I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, my mind already turning over the last few days like a stone that will not stop cutting into my palm.
The attack. The man in the cell. His words about Octavia. The way he died, like something invisible ripped the life right out of him.
I drag a hand over my face and exhale slowly. The restlessness humming in my veins will not go away. I need to move. I need to do something.
I slip out of bed quietly, grab my training clothes, and change. The academy halls are nearly empty this early, just a few students heading out for morning runs. The familiar scent of wolves, co
