Jessica Lewis
The room was silent, save for the soft crackling of dying embers in the fireplace. Moonlight spilled through the window, painting silver shadows across the floor and the bed where Tristan and I lay.
He was asleep — finally — his strong arm draped protectively over my waist, his chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of deep sleep. For hours, he’d fought it, refusing to rest until exhaustion finally took hold.
But I couldn’t sleep. Not with the seer’s words circling in my mind, sharp as broken glass.
“You are his kindred.”
“Your mother was bound to him long before you were born.”
Each word felt like a lock clicking into place, a door I’d been too afraid to open now standing wide. My mother — the woman I barely remembered — tied to the creature who haunted my dreams
