Chapter 84

• Morning bled into the fortress like a ghost returning home.
• Mist clung to the walls, softening the jagged edges of the cliffs. The sea below churned grey and restless, waves breaking against stone with the rhythm of a heartbeat that refused to stop.
• Ariana stood at her window, the chill seeping into her bones. Her reflection swam in the glass—paler than she remembered, eyes too bright, the faint trace of exhaustion beneath them. Each night since the encounter in the forest, sleep had become a shallow, brittle thing. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him—the Dark Lord—standing in that silver circle, his voice coiling through her mind like smoke.