Lira (POV)The first Pit calls without a voice.I feel it while the pack begins to move around us, while scouts scatter into the dark and Mirella seals the last ash mark over Lily’s shoulder. It does not hum. It does not pull.It knows.That is worse.My scar stays quiet beneath my shirt, white and dead where the old command used to live. Lower, under my palm, Ashen shifts once. Small. Restless. Then still.Kael sees my hand move. Of course he does.“You’re staying near the center,” he says.“I’m going where the path leads.”His jaw tightens. “That wasn’t an argument.”“It sounded like one.”“It was instruction.”“That’s worse.”A flash of something almost like a smile touches his mouth. It does not last. The firelight catches the blood drying on his sleeve, the dirt on his cheek, the tension he keeps locked in his shoulders because if he lets it move, it might become rage.Mirella steps away from Lily and wipes her fingers on a strip of cloth. The ash and salt around Lily’s mark have
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