Dawn struggled to break across the ridge.
It was not darkness that held it back. It was uncertainty. The sky hovered in that in-between haze where night had not yet surrendered, and morning refused to take its place. The world did not know which way to turn, as if waiting for permission.
I stepped out of the hall and the dawn shifted.
Light spilled across the snow, soft and golden, as though recognizing that something ancient had loosened its grip. The wolves gathered outside lifted their heads, eyes reflecting a future they did not yet understand.
The shattered moon no longer hung overhead. The sky was whole. Empty. Wide.
Possible.
Ronan stood at the base of the hall steps, staring at me as though I were both the end of his sanity and the beginning of something he did not dare hope
