The rain did not fall so much as it attacked the earth. Sheets of water hammered the ground, turning the path into a river of mud and broken leaves. Every breath I drew felt too cold, too sharp, as if the storm wanted to crawl inside my lungs. By the time we reached the ridge, my cloak was soaked through and my hair clung to my face like wet vines.
Home should have felt close. It did not.
The forest around Crescent Ridge seemed darker than usual, as if the storm had stripped away its warmth. The trees bent under the weight of the wind, their branches twisting like they were trying to warn us. The Moonbond tugged along my wrist, pulsing in uneven beats, restless and heavy.
Talon walked at my side, close enough for his warmth to reach through the rain. His jaw was clenched, his eyes sweep
