Heather’s POV
The firelight cracked low in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls of the Bloodmoon stronghold. I sat in the war room, alone, staring at the torn map spread across the table. Darrian had left to patrol the western edge of the forest, Axel had returned to the lower barracks with his wounded, and Ronan was downstairs interrogating the last living mercenary.
I should’ve been sleeping.
But sleep hadn’t come easy since we returned from the Veils. Since the moment I remembered who I was—and what I had survived.
The quiet was broken by the soft click of a door opening behind me.
“Can’t sleep either?” Vessa asked, stepping inside with two steaming cups.
I shook my head. “Not since the attack.”
She handed me a mug, and I took it gratefully, wrapping my finge
