Ava's povThe moonlight filtered into our chamber through the talk windows. Everything was quiet. Too quiet.Outside, the war continued in subtle ways—strategy, training, whispers of what the warriors were anticipating—but in here, all I could hear was the sound of the crickets chirping and Xander’s shallow breathing.He sat at the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched forward, elbows rested on his knees. It hurt to see him this way with his back hunched forward like the weight of the world was resting there.And maybe it did.I sat up slowly, watching him for a moment, giving him space. His hands were clasped tightly together, knuckles white. His jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle twitch beneath his skin.“Xander,” I said softly, barely a whisper.He didn’t turn to me.After a while he spoke but his voice sounded distant and hoarse. “I was twelve when my mother died,” he said. “The day after Lyra and Rowan were born.”My heart clenched, and I silently pulled the blanket tig
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