Dawn did not arrive gently.
It tore itself across the sky in bruised shades of violet and ash, light bleeding through torn clouds like an old wound reopened. The forest surrounding the Blackclaw estate stirred uneasily, branches creaking, leaves trembling without wind. The night had not released its grip cleanly. Power still clung to the air, heavy and unsettled, as though the land itself remembered Kaelen's touch and resented it.
Selara had not slept.
She stood at the highest surviving battlement, fingers braced against cold stone, eyes fixed on the treeline. The Nightborne energy within her no longer surged uncontrollably, but it never truly rested. It moved in slow, deliberate currents now, like a predator pacing behind a cage door it knew would eventually open.
Behind her, the estate was awake.
