SERAPHINA’S POV
Ava didn’t resist when I asked her to lead the way.
I followed behind her as she walked, quick and small and silent, her shoulders hunched like she was bracing to be struck from behind at any moment.
Moonlight Alley grew narrower the farther we went. The lanterns thinned. The shops disappeared. Cracks split the pavement in jagged lines, and the buildings sagged under the weight of years and neglect. The scent of damp stone and stale air clung to everything.
Ava stopped in front of a crooked wooden door beneath a rusted staircase.
“This is it,” she muttered.
When she pushed open the door, a wave of sour, sickly air drifted out—sweat, herbal poultices, and the unmistakable scent of fever. A frail cough rasped from inside.
Ava’s chin quivered before she
