The sky was still veiled in darkness when Elizabeth slipped out of the fortress. She moved swiftly and silently, her cloak pulled tight around her as she made her way through the sleeping pack lands. Every step brought her closer to the Whispering Glade a place where secrets clung to the trees and even the wind dared to whisper truths.
She arrived just as the first rays of dawn pierced the canopy. Mist hovered above the ground, curling around the roots and fallen leaves like ancient spirits.
And there he was.
Damien Stormborn.
Her father stood at the center of the glade, a shadow of the man he once was. His once broad shoulders were stooped, and his hair had grayed at the temples. But his eyes, those stormy eyes she had inherited, still held that same intensity.
“Elizabeth,” he said s
