The raven’s body lay sprawled across the war table, its wings scorched black and its feathers dusted with ash. Aria knelt beside it, fingers trembling as she unrolled the parchment fastened to its leg. The seal cracked with a whisper, and the scent of burnt roses wafted up.
Kael stood behind her, his arms crossed, jaw tight. “What does it say?”
Aria didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes scanned the message once. Then twice. Then a third time, each word carving deeper into her chest like a dagger dipped in poison.
She read aloud, voice like frost.
> “To the bound and the blind—
You wear the mask of fate, but blood cannot be deceived.
He walks beneath the moonlight now, and I have unmade your bond.
Come find him, Daughter of Wilds. If you dare.”
—Morgra, Queen of Wastes
The parchme
