Selene’s POV
By the second night, the fever had loosened its grip, leaving only exhaustion and the faint tremor in my hands.
The witch—Eryndor—had come and gone in quiet intervals, bringing with him a strange calm. He spoke little, but his silence filled the space like incense smoke: heavy, soothing, dangerous to breathe too deeply. His crystal rested on the table near my bed, faintly glowing with silver threads that seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat.
I didn’t ask him to take it away.
I’d grown used to its hum in the dark. It made the silence less empty.
Outside, the fortress was a nest of whispers. I could hear them through the stone—servants gossiping about “the cursed Luna,” guards muttering about Kael’s anger, courtiers wondering how long before the old Alpha found a way t
