Phoebe's POV
I couldn't mask the grief weighing down my chest. Elder Tricia's lifeless form lay beneath the glass coffin, looking peaceful in death. Marcela had worked some kind of preservation spell—his body would remain untouched until we could honor him properly.
He appeared to be merely sleeping. Memories flooded back of our time together, especially that day in the garden when he'd shared glimpses of Perry's painful past.
My fingers pressed against the cold glass, wishing I could grasp his hand one final time. "I'm so sorry," I whispered. The regret burned—he'd never know I'd found my voice again.
He'd been my shield through every brutal council meeting, standing firm when the other elders circled like vultures. His protection had been fierce, unwavering.
"I swear to you—I'll be the luna this kingdom needs. You don't have to worry about Perry anymore. I'll take care of him."
