Talia POV
The morning after the fire, the world no longer felt neutral.
It felt aware.
Talia sat just beyond the cabin threshold, boots planted in the snow, the codex open across her thighs. The symbols pulsed faintly—steady, deliberate—matching the rhythm of her heart.
Not racing.
Not calm.
Ready.
She hadn’t slept. Didn’t feel the need to. Her body hummed with a contained heat, coiled and alert, like a blade waiting to be drawn.
Lucian’s presence still lingered inside her, not through the bond alone, but deeper—imprinted. His vow echoed in the quiet spaces of her mind.
When this is done, I’m giving you the wedding you deserve.
Her mouth curved, just barely. “You’d better survive long enough to keep that promise,” she murmured.
The response came from within.
A pressure. A flu
