WESLEY’S POV
The night pressed against the walls of the Moonshade stronghold like a living, breathing creature, heavy and oppressive, its weight seeping into every crack of stone. It felt as if the darkness itself conspired to suffocate me, a shroud that no fire could banish. Even here, within the fortress carved by generations of my bloodline, I found no refuge.
Sleep was no balm. It dragged me into its depths only to betray me, carrying me back into memory, and memory always blurred into nightmare.
I was there again. That night.
The ancestral hall stretched endlessly, its vaulted ceiling alive with shadow. The candles, flickering weakly against the cold stone, offered no comfort; their light only carved deeper hollows in my parents’ faces. Their eyes, proud and unyielding, followed m
