5 Years Ago
Clay came to me at dawn.
Not with the thunder of an Alpha or the certainty of a warrior, but quietly, like a man who knew he stood on fragile ground. I had not slept. Silvercrest was still wrapped in that uneasy half-light where the moon lingers too long, and the sun hesitates to show up.
I was on the eastern balcony, watching the forest breathe. The Dark Forest looked calm from here, almost innocent, but I knew better now. I had seen what moved within it. I had felt the pull of old magic brushing against my skin, testing me.
I heard Clay before I saw him. His steps were measured, slower than usual. When he stopped behind me, he did not speak at once.
“Zanny,” he said finally.
I did not turn.
“I came to ask for your forgiveness.”
The words surprised me, though I had bee
