The drive to the cabin takes forty minutes, winding through the dense, emerald canopy of the Blackthorn territory. The air here smells different than it does at the Academy. It lacks the sharp, metallic tang of ozone and magic. Instead, it smells of damp earth, wild jasmine, and the crisp, clean scent of pine.
I step out of the vehicle, letting the quiet of the forest wash over me. It has been six months since the illusion shattered, six months since the rogue cabal was banished, and six months since the world finally stopped spinning out of control.
I needed this. We all did.
The cabin is a modest, beautifully crafted structure of blackthorn wood and glass, nestled beside a gently flowing creek. It was built for Serena. After the final battle, she stepped away from the heavy, suffocati
