The camp dissolved into chaos.
Women wailed. Men stood frozen, helpless. Children clung to each other, their small faces crumpled in fear. The early morning sun spilled over the treetops, bright and warm… but the camp felt cold. Wrong. Shaken to its bones.
Nora's body lay limp in Ilyra's arms, her mismatched eyes half-closed like she'd simply drifted off into a dream she never woke from.
A dream…
My stomach twisted.
She was alive last night. Laughing. Swimming. Telling me things she shouldn't have known—things no one could have told her.
My child.
A girl.
Dangerous. Like me.
A chill crawled down my spine.
Something happened to Nora. Something unnatural.
And Garrick… Garrick was nowhere.
He should've been here first, before anyone. He always was whenever someone cried out, as if he could sense fear long before it reached the air.
