The rain had not stopped for two days.
It fell in a steady, silver curtain over Shadowmoon Academy, turning the training grounds into mud and the stone paths into glistening mirrors that reflected the gray sky. Inside their private quarters, the sound was a constant, soothing rhythm against the balcony doors a gentle backdrop to the quiet war Elara Voss was fighting within herself.
She sat cross-legged on the thick rug in the center of the room, eyes closed, hands resting palms-up on her knees. Silver light flickered weakly around her fingertips, struggling to hold steady. The heart of the silent moon, once a roaring storm, now felt like a quiet ember warm, but diminished. The piece she had offered on Blackpine Ridge had left a hollow place inside her, a subtle emptiness that no healing
