SAGE
I tore through the pack like breath given purpose.
Mist wrapped around me, my body dissolving into vapor and intent as I slipped between trees and rooftops, through wards and shadows, moving too fast for eyes to follow.
The night rushed past in fragments—stone, iron, blood, fire—yet my mind burned hotter than any of it.
The Queen.
The realization clawed at me with every passing second.
Claire had not learned that magic by accident—she had been the telling the truth in that regard at least.
I had seen it in her mind—the precision, the structure, the discipline behind her spells. That kind of power was not born in secrecy or desperation. It was taught.
The Queen had trained her. When? I did not know. But the truth tasted bitter on my tongue.
How dare she?
How dare that woman touch another life, mold it into a blade, and aim it at me while wearing the mask of inevitability?
