WILLOW
The breakfast hall buzzed, a jarring noise given how little sleep I'd managed to snag. I sat down with a plate I knew I wouldn't touch, nudged a piece of toast around for a solid thirty seconds, and gave up on the pretense of being there for the food. The packhouse hummed with its usual morning energy – wolves grabbing breakfast, guards changing shifts, the low murmur of conversations that always felt like they held secrets I was privy to. My mind kept replaying that passage. The antidote was archived. Preserved by a bloodline that–
"You look like hell," Mira announced, sliding into the seat opposite me. She radiated the kind of cheerful energy that only comes from a full night's sleep. "Interrupting your thoughts section?" she added with a grin.
"Good morning to you too," I mana
