The Crescent Heir
Freedom.
When was the last time she'd felt this? Standing under an open sky, no bars, no guards, no eyes watching for signs of guilt she didn't carry? The wind tugged at her hair, and for just a moment, she let herself feel small against the vastness of the night. Small, but not trapped, never trapped again.
"Brightest night after a Supermoon,"
came a voice behind her, smooth and unhurried. "I must say, quite the view."