Aria
The dream doesn’t fade when I wake. That’s the first problem. Dreams are supposed to blur around the edges, soften, dissolve until you can convince yourself they were never real. But this one stays—fire, broken stone, and four kings reaching for me like they had already lost me once before. And the voice in the dark, the one that called itself the end of kingdoms.
The bond hasn’t settled since. Not completely. Cassian feels closer. Lucien sharper. Eryndor restless. Kaelith—burning. All four of them are awake, and I know it before anyone knocks, before footsteps reach my door, before the hallway fills with presence and power. The bond tells me.
“They felt it too,” I whisper, just as the door opens.
Cassian enters first, controlled and focused, already scanning the room for threats.
