Emory's POV.
The steady murmur of the camp fades behind me as I find my father standing at the edge of the ridge, watching the wind ripple across the moonlit valley. His silhouette looks like it's been carved from the very rock beneath his feet — unshakable, resolute. But when he turns to face me, I see the familiar flicker of softness in his eyes.
“You’ve been quiet tonight,” he says. His voice is low, not accusing, just… knowing.
I step beside him, my heart racing slightly. “I’ve been thinking about what Lucian said. About the rogues.”
His brow furrows slightly. “The ones you’ve met along the road?”
I nod. “Not all of them are dangerous, daddy. Some are just… lost. Angry because they’ve been hurt, abandoned, betrayed. They have nowhere to belong, no one to turn to. Lucian wants to c
