*Xamara*

Sunshine paints the small room in Willow’s cabin with a pale gold glow. I stir in my borrowed bed, muscles stiff. Willow is already awake, sitting cross-legged on the floor, her fire-red hair pulled up on top of her head as she tends a small fire. She looks up and gives me a smile. “Good morning.” She tosses on one more log before dusting her hands off and turning toward me. “Everyone’s gathering outside.”

I swing my legs off the bed, stretch, and inhale the crisp winter air drifting in from the slightly open window. My body still stings with the memory of yesterday’s battle with the Nightborn, the...