{AURORA'S POV}
The morning light spilled slowly across Heron, painting the cobblestone streets in a pale gold hue. The air smelled faintly of baking bread, and the sound of shutters creaking open followed us down the street. Market stalls were just beginning to stir—shopkeepers rolled up their shutters, sweeping the front of their stalls, women unpacking baskets of fruit, men dragging barrels across the cobbles, a boy chasing after a mule cart that clattered past. Somewhere far off, the soft toll of a bell echoed through the mist.
But I barely noticed any of it.
I walked beside Leo, my mind far away, trapped somewhere darker.
The screams wouldn't leave me. Mira's voice. My mother's. My father's. The terrifying cries of the people from my village. They looped endlessly in my head like loud ghosts that refused to fade.
And those hands…
Those hands that reached for me in the dream… I could still feel the cold touch of those blackened fingers against my skin.
