LENA'S POVThe transition from dreaming to waking wasn’t a clean break anymore; it was a slow, agonizing bleed.For the past week, the visions had stopped waiting for me to close my eyes. They hovered at the edges of my vision during the day, phantom smoke rising from clean carpets, the copper tang of old blood cutting through the scent of the fresh meals Jax brought to my room. He thought I was recovering from the stress of the invasion. He would hold me against his chest, his large hands tracing soothing circles on my back, whispering promises of safety into my hair before kissing me with a desperate, protective intensity that nearly made me forget the sirens. I anchored myself to the heat of his skin, to the fierce, unyielding way his lips met mine, using his love as a shield against the dark.But love couldn't chain a bloodline.When I finally closed my eyes tonight, there was no transition. I didn’t see the burning kingdom or the slaughter at the altar. There was only a col
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