The moon over Silver Creek was a sharp, silver sickle, casting long, skeletal shadows across the private garden behind the main house. The air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth, night-blooming jasmine, and a tension so thick it was almost tasteable. Aria sat on a stone bench, a thick wool shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders, though it did nothing to ward off the chill seeping into her bones.
Kai stood a few feet away, his back to her, staring out into the dark forest line. His shoulders were rigid, the line of his body a testament to the storm raging inside him. The soft chirping of crickets felt like a mockery of the silence between them.
