Kiel
I woke to the sound of my own groan — deep, guttural, dragged from somewhere between exhaustion and fury. My head pounded as if a wolf was clawing behind my eyes. I pushed up from the bed, bare feet against cold marble, and grabbed the jug of water from the table.
The liquid was warm and metallic, but I drank anyway, gulp after gulp, trying to wash away the unease sitting in my gut since last night.
Thorne's voice echoed in my mind — the curse is coming back.
Those words wouldn't stop replaying. The tone he used… it wasn't fear. It was resignation. And that terrified me more than anything.
I set the jug down too hard. It cracked against the table. "Damn it," I hissed.
I grabbed my shirt, pulled it over my head, and stormed down the hallway to Thorne's quarters. The morning light filtering through the high glass windows painted everything silver-blue — peaceful, deceptive. My heart was a mess of panic and dread, pounding harder the closer I got.
