The ride back to Moon’s Refuge was silent. Not the comfortable, easy silence we had built over the last six months, but a heavy, suffocating quiet. The kind of silence that follows an earthquake, when the ground is still shaking but the dust hasn't settled.
Caleb rode beside me, his knee brushing mine with every stride of his horse. He didn't try to fill the air with empty comforts. He knew better. Through the bond, I could feel his steady, anchoring presence, a silent promise that whatever came next, we would face it together.
My mother was trapped.
For six years, I had mourned her. I had buried an empty box, planted wildflowers over a lie, and carried the crushing guilt of surviving her. But she hadn't moved on. She had been waiting in the cold dark, held at the boundary by the very p
