The dawn after Malachai’s test bled gray and cold across the Academy grounds. The courtyard, once a battlefield of whispers and crimson echoes, now seemed too still—as if the stones themselves were holding their breath.Lyra hadn’t slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Malachai’s expression just before he’d walked away—the faint crack in his composure, the truth that lingered behind his warning.My blood already belongs to you.The words refused to fade.By the time she reached the training grounds that morning, her pulse was already unsteady. The message summoning her had been brief: “South Arena. Noon. Bring your focus.”Ronan was waiting.He stood in the center of the arena, stripped of his uniform coat, sleeves rolled to his forearms. His hair was damp from the mist, his expression set in that familiar line of command. He looked less like a mentor, more like judgment made flesh.“You’re late,” he said without turning.“I didn’t know it was a crime to breathe before a fig
Last Updated : 2025-10-18 Read more