(Nova POV)
The final ridge pass felt like walking through a knife's edge.
The wind cut cold and sharp, carrying the scent of pine and distant snow. My legs trembled with every step—side wound seeping through the makeshift bandage, ribs aching from the fight in the narrow pass. The light in my palms flickered low—barely more than embers, too weak to push back the gathering dusk. I'd been moving for days—maybe longer—since Damien vanished into the shadows. Hunger gnawed at my stomach; exhaustion dragged at my limbs like wet chains. But the bond still tugged—faint, stubborn, north. Always north.
The valley opened below me like a hidden breath.
