Kael jolted upright, heart pounding, drenched in cold sweat. The heavy curtains of the Moonspire rippled with a wind that shouldn’t exist indoors. His breathing was ragged. He blinked into the darkness, struggling to shake off the vision—Aria with obsidian eyes, the moonlight crown shattering in her hands, and blood on her lips.
It had felt too real.
He reached out instinctively, hand searching the bed beside him.
Empty.
His blood ran cold. The mark on his palm—a crescent cleaved by flame—glowed faintly beneath his skin.
“Aria?” he called out, rising. His voice bounced hollowly off the stone walls.
No answer. No trace of her scent. Not even a faint warmth in the sheets.
Gone.
He threw on his tunic and boots, snatched his blade from its place by the door, and stormed into the corrid
