CLARABEL

"Kaedryn! Stop this instant!" I rounded the corner. 

My lungs burned, not from exhaustion, but from chasing a five-year-old who refused to be caught.

Ahead of me, a blur of dark hair and a tunic far too small for his sturdy frame vanished behind a massive stone pillar. Kaedryn was small for his age, but he was dense with muscle, his movements carrying a predatory grace that often made my heart stop. He didn't just run; he chased the horizon. He was sharp-eyed and curious, with a habit of questioning every order I gave as if we were negotiating a peace treaty.

"You can't catch me, Mama!" he shouted,...