Chapter Thirty
The firelight danced across the clearing, casting long, jagged shadows that flickered against the trees like restless spirits. I stood frozen, my gaze locked on Amelia's face—a mask of pure, unadulterated agony. The sight of her struggling, her body contorting as her bones cracked and reset with a sickening, wet sound, felt like a physical blow to my chest. The Wolfmort tree was supposed to have suppressed my heart, turning my emotions into stagnant pools of ash, yet the sight of her nearly tore me apart. She was the last person who truly looked after me, the last tether I had to a world that wasn't defined by blood and cold iron.
