Selene

Morwen’s sigil, a crescent moon pierced by a dagger, flashed on the banners, confirming Renn’s report. My chest tightened, the curse’s whispers weaving through my thoughts: Traitor. You’ll lose them all. Mixing with the dread of facing Morwen, Draven’s former betrothed, and now Kaelen’s ally. The Red Cliffs loomed closer, but this patrol stood between us and Dorian... and possibly the artefact Morwen carried, if Torren’s intel held true.

Draven crouched beside me behind a jagged outcrop, his golden eyes scanning the approaching patrol.

“Twelve, maybe fifteen,” he whispered, his voice steady despite the odds. “We hit fast, use the curse’s illusions to our advantage. Selene, cover the left...