WESLEY’S POV
The ground was fire beneath me. Not the kind of flame I could smother with strength or will, but something deeper — a divine blaze burrowing through my bones, peeling apart the skin of my lies one layer at a time. My knees hit the dirt with a sickening crack, the shock rattling up my spine. The breath tore from my lungs in a strangled gasp as the Moon Goddess’ light poured over me. It was cold and hot all at once, a merciless tide that didn’t ask for surrender — it demanded it, it devoured it.
I clawed at the soil, my nails carving furrows, desperate to anchor myself against the weight pressing me down. My chest burned. My ribs felt as though they were splintering beneath invisible hands. I tried to breathe, tried to steady the fury ripping through my chest, but every inhale
