The morning sun hung low and sullen, its light filtered through heavy cloud that made the world feel dim, washed of color. Emil’s bones ached as he pulled on his gear, each buckle and strap fumbling beneath his trembling fingers. He told himself it was exhaustion, nothing more. But he knew. It was the voice. It had been growing louder every night, feeding off his sleeplessness until even the simplest task felt like a battle waged inside his skull.
When he entered the yard, the others were already forming ranks. Joran’s eyes cut toward him, sharp with disdain. Darin, for once, didn’t sneer—he only looked uneasy, as if even his cruelty had its limits now. Emil kept his gaze fixed ahead, jaw locked tight. He could feel their stares anyway, pressing against his skin.
Kael barked the morning
