Dawn did not come gently.
The sun rose pale and strained, as though even it struggled to pierce the weight pressing down on the land. Smoke still curled along the eastern horizon, staining the sky a sickly gray where moonlight should have ruled.
I hadn’t slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I felt it—the pull, the warning, the sense of something ancient stirring beneath the earth.
The Trial was awake.
Blackrock moved differently that morning.
No laughter. No casual banter among warriors. Wolves trained silently in the outer grounds, their movements sharp, tense. They avoided looking at me—not out of disrespect, but fear.
Not of me.
Of what the Council had unleashed for me.
Ronan found me just before sunrise.
“You should eat,” he said quietly, holding out a plate.
I stared at the
