Beyond Redemption
The heat shimmered strangely, forming shapes that vanished when anyone looked too closely.
And then there were the whispers.
At first, I thought they were part of the wind, faint and harmless. But by the third night, I could make out words.
You are the spark. You are the undoing.
I tried to ignore them. I trained, I hunted, I laughed when Edward teased me about glowing like a lantern. But in the quiet hours before dawn, when everyone else was asleep, I would hear them again—closer, clearer, colder.
When I told Seraphine, she only looked at me with an expression I didn’t like. “They’re the remnants of what’s been burned here,” she said. “Echoes. The Plains remember everything. Even pain.”
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