(Vladford POV)
The storm was gone.
That was the first thing I noticed.
No howling wind rattling the shutters. No rain drumming against the roof. Only a quiet so complete it felt wrong—like the world was holding its breath.
I stirred, warmth fading from my skin.
"…Rose?"
My voice echoed softly in the small hunter's cottage.
I sat up too quickly, the blanket sliding from my shoulders. The fire in the hearth had burned down to embers, thin wisps of smoke curling upward. Morning light seeped through the narrow window, pale and cold.
The space beside me was empty.
The blanket was folded. Neat. Deliberate.
My heart skipped.
"Rose?" I called again, louder this time.
Nothing.
A hollow dread settled deep in my chest.
