Dawn never really came to these mountains. The eastern sky glimmered gold, but thick clouds swallowed up the light before it could spill onto the forest. Honestly, it felt like even the sun wanted nothing to do with this place today. Peace was long gone.
They buried the assassin under a ring of ancient pines.
No prayers. No names. Just the quiet, broken only by a few rustling needles.
Nyra lingered a good distance from the grave, her eyes stuck on that mound of dirt. Strange, how a stranger could die just because she existed.
She used to think no one would ever notice her. Now, the weight of her existence pressed down too much.
Kael came over, quiet as ever.
His shoulder was wrapped up tight—palace physician’s work—but each step, each shift, reminded him of the arrow meant for Nyra.
