CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The door to Bethesda's cabin creaks on its hinges as Ford and I step back into the twilight embrace of the Withered Woods. The dense canopy above us filters the fading light, casting intricate shadows that dance around our feet. We tread the familiar path, a trail worn by generations of paws, now graced by the soles of our boots.
"Skye," Ford starts, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. I steal a glance at him, noting the furrow between his brows reflecting his inner turmoil. "Back there, with Bethesda... she mentioned your telepathy."
I hesitate, drawing in a deep breath. The truth about my ability has always been a closely guarded secret, a whisper of fear tickling the back of my mind. "It's been part of me for as long as I can remember," I confess, focusing o
