ELISA’S POV
That night, sleep refused me, no matter how tightly I pulled the rough wool blanket around my shoulders. My mind wouldn’t let me rest. Every thought from last night played on a loop—the mark, Wren’s words, the whispers of the Moon God, and Alec’s scowl. I tried to shut my eyes, tried to force some peace, but it was useless. My arm throbbed beneath the sleeve, each pulse a reminder of the impossible reality I now carried with me.
At last, I rose, my body stiff and aching from the restless night. Wren was already awake, sitting by the hearth, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of something that smelled like sage and chamomile. She didn’t look up as I approached, but her presence was more than enough—calm, anchoring me when I needed it most.
“I’ll return,” I said, my voice
