The third dawn in the valley arrived heavy with mist. Dew clung to the mossy cliffs, and the stream’s murmur was the only sound besides the rebels stirring to wakefulness.
Kael stood apart from them, hands trembling as faint sparks danced across his skin. Sleep had given him no rest. Each night the storm spoke louder, whispering through his dreams with thunderous voices he could not understand. He was afraid—but more afraid of what would happen if he stopped listening.
Asha approached, her expression sharper than the morning chill. “On your feet. Yesterday you nearly killed us all. Today you’ll learn not to.”
Kael gave a weary smile. “Comforting.”
She smirked faintly, then tossed him a charred branch. “Focus. We’ll use this as a conduit. Safer than your bare hands.”
He gripped it, spa
