Selene’s POV
The first time I died, I had no say in where it happened.
They chose the place, the time, the witnesses. I was dragged to their stage and allowed the dignity of a single scream before the flames swallowed it.
I woke in this life with one promise:
If death came again, I would choose the ground.
Now the ground was shifting under my feet.
Frost, old oaths, eastern banners I couldn’t yet see, the Moon’s hum beneath my skin — all of it converged.
Waiting.
Watching.
But if they wanted me, they’d have to fight for me in a place of my choosing.
---
The fortress had grown strangely loud in its quiet.
Boots on stone.
Whispers in doorways.
The faint clang of steel where there should have been wooden practice swords.
Fear makes people move differently.
They walk quickly bu
