ELARA POV
The fire crackled softly, casting dancing shadows across our small camp.
Everyone else was asleep. Theron lay wrapped in his traveling cloak near the edge of our clearing. Shadowfang and the other two dragons—Kaida and Frost—had positioned themselves around the perimeter, keeping watch even in sleep. Their breathing was deep and rhythmic, a sound that should have been comforting.
But I couldn't sleep.
My mother's journal sat in my lap, the leather warm from my hands. I'd been staring at it for the past hour, afraid to open it. Afraid of what I might find inside.
Your mother died to hide this truth.
What truth could be worth dying for?
I took a breath and opened the cover.
The first page was dated twenty-three years ago—the year I was born. The handwriting was elegant but hurried, like she'd been writing quickly, urgently.
