The fifth wound didn't cry out.
It whispered.
Lena heard it in her sleep. A voice so soft she almost missed it. A plea so gentle it barely registered. But it was there. Persistent. Patient. Waiting.
She woke in the dark. Lyra was beside her, golden glow dim.
"Did you hear it?" Lena whispered.
"Yes. It's been whispering for days. I didn't want to worry you."
"Worry me? Lyra, you should have told me."
"I didn't know what it was. I thought it might be the old woman's seal. Or a remnant of the Accord. But it's not."
"What is it?"
"It's a wound. But different. Not born from pain. Born from regret."
---
The council met at dawn.
Mira was there, her face lined with worry. Amara had grown into a young woman, her eyes sharp and knowing. Elias sat in the corner, his weathered hands claspe
