The forest was cloaked in the silver hush of early morning, mist curling low over the leaf-littered ground like breath held between worlds. A pale light filtered through the canopy, dappling the mossy earth and the unmoving bodies of the boys still wrapped in their cloaks, slumped around the dying embers of the campfire. It would be another hour, maybe more, before they stirred.
Rhea sat apart from them, crouched low behind a thick-branched shrub, fingers trembling slightly as they worked over the folds of her tunic. Her breath fogged faintly in the cool air, the early chill biting through the thin fabric. But her mind wasn’t on the cold. It was on the illusion.
Her hands moved with practiced precision, tugging the bindings at her chest, ensuring every inch of her body read flat, hard, m
