Sasha’s Pov
The fire never stopped crackling.
Not loud, not raging, just constant. A steady whisper of embers and ash filled the small cottage with a breath-like sound. It should’ve been comforting. It wasn’t. We didn’t sleep that night.
To say we stayed in the hut is too gentle. We endured it, suspended in that slow, terrible waiting that comes after something ancient looks you in the eye and doesn’t kill you. Not yet.
Alex sat near the door, his sword resting on his lap, hand curled tight around the hilt. His silhouette was carved in firelight and shadow, still and rigid. He watched the trees through the warped windowpane as he expected them to step forward and become something else.
Something wrong.
Every creak of wood, every flutter of wind, every crackling branch sent a jolt dow
