CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
The wind whispers through the pines outside my window, carrying with it the scent of pine and mountain sage. The moon hangs heavy in the sky, a silver disk bathing my room in ethereal light. I've always felt attuned to the rhythms of the night, the silent conversations of stars and spirits. Yet tonight, the air feels charged, alive with an anticipation that makes the fine hairs on the back of my neck rise.
I slip beneath the woven quilt on my bed, the silvery threads glinting like my hair under the moonlight. My eyelids grow heavy, the call of sleep as irresistible as the pull of the tides. But just as I teeter on the edge of dreams, a chill seeps into the room, disrupting the warmth cocooning me.
"Raven," a voice murmurs, so faint I think I've imagined it.
I open m
