Aria*
The dream clung to me like cobwebs.
A woman in a broken cabin, eyes like coal.
A border of clawed trees.
A man at the edge of our land, dark‑haired and amused, as if he’d been waiting there for years.
I woke with my heart already pounding, lungs dragging in air like I’d been running.
For a moment, I didn’t know where I was.
Not the old, cramped guest room my parents had shoved me into after the first time I died.
Not the moonlit shrine, with its stone wolves and blood on the altar.
Lucian’s room flashed across my mind instead—claw marks in the walls, broken furniture, his body half‑shifted and shaking under my hand.
My ceiling met my gaze a heartbeat later: the faint crack like a crooked line, the pale light of morning seeping around the curtains.
Blackmoon Manor.
My ro
