The night bled silver across the training fields, stretching long shadows through the broken ruins where Liora had once stood as a girl who still believed in fate. The wind was cold, brushing through the grass like a whisper, and the moon hung low, heavy and bruised.
Her pulse still hadn't settled from running. The forest behind her was a blur of darkness and memory. Every breath came out uneven, clouding in the cool air as if even her lungs were afraid of what they carried.
She didn't know why she ran. Maybe it was the dream, that haunting replay of what she once had with Gonzalo, twisting suddenly into something dark and cruel. Or maybe it was the way his eyes had found hers beneath the moonlight, steady, unafraid, like he was seeing the girl she used to be, not the queen the gods had made of her.
But she couldn't face that. She couldn't face him.
