The canopy of Hunter’s Crossing was so dense that the concept of daytime became a myth. Massive, ancient trees with gnarled bark hemmed in the narrow dirt track, their leaves a bruised, unnatural purple that seemed to drink what little light managed to filter down from the grey sky. It was a suffocating place, where the air felt thick with the static of dark magic and the unsettling sense that the forest itself was holding its breath.
Serena and Valan had been riding in a loaded silence for hours. The rhythmic clip-clop of the hooves was the only sound in the gloom, yet Serena’s mind was deafeningly loud. She kept thinking about the moment their hands had grazed and the brief, electric contact that had sent a jolt through her entire system. She had pulled away, her heart hammering a frant
