The words seemed to echo long after Kell stopped speaking.
She is awake.
Three simple words.
Three words that turned the air inside the packhouse cold.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The escaped prisoner no longer mattered.
Not really.
The message mattered.
Because it wasn't written for the guards.
It wasn't written for Moonridge.
It was written for someone else.
Someone who would understand exactly what it meant.
And somehow, deep in my bones, I understood it too.
I just didn't know how.
Yet.
---
The holding cells beneath Moonridge were silent when we arrived.
Too silent.
The corridor smelled of damp stone and iron.
Torchlight flickered against the walls.
The guards stationed outside the escaped prisoner's cell looked miserable.
One glance at Rylan's face
