Their eyes. M.R.
Smoke still clung to the ruins of the last battlefield, drifting like ghosts between the shattered stones. Ariana moved through it with the same calm she’d learned in childhood—quiet steps, knife-edged awareness, heart locked in iron.
Their eyes. M.R.
Smoke still clung to the ruins of the last battlefield, drifting like ghosts between the shattered stones. Ariana moved through it with the same calm she’d learned in childhood—quiet steps, knife-edged awareness, heart locked in iron.