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by Dove Rowell (Author)
The dawn broke over Westharrow in gold and fire, but the city
didn't feel completely free. I stood atop the ridge overlooking
the sprawling streets below, feeling the pulse of life, of laughter,
of rebuilding-but beneath it all, I felt it: a subtle vibration,
a whisper in the air that prickled at the edges of my mind.
Something was wrong. Something hidden. Something waiting.
I adjusted my cloak against the morning breeze, the smell of
fresh bread and wood smoke drifting up from the plazas below.
Children ran through the streets, their laughter spilling into the
alleyways, bouncing off the walls of rebuilt homes. Merchants
set up stalls, displaying fruits, fabrics, and handmade crafts.
The Network of Light pulsed faintly beneath the surface of
everything, invisible but alive, connecting towns, villages, and
cities in a web of protection and faith.
And yet... the shadow lingered.
