Chapter-32

The forest groaned beneath the weight of the storm, trees bending like kneeling giants as wind hissed through their canopies. The scent of rain and earth clung to everything, soaking Hyacinth’s cloak and dampening the fire that smouldered in her veins.

Beside her, Garnet trudged in silence, his gauntlets muddied, his face unreadable. Not once since she spared his life had he spoken a word that wasn’t necessary. He moved like a soldier walking willingly to the gallows.

Hyacinth said nothing either. Her staff glowed faintly in her grip, its runes pulsing as it tugged her forward, a beacon toward what mattered most. Prince Cassien. Regal. The mission they were never meant to survive.

They’d nearly succeeded—those bastards in the thorn cloaks. Garnet had been one of them. And yet here he was, walking in the witch’s shadow.

Lightning cracked above them, and for a moment the sky split open, revealing a bleeding silver path through the trees.

Hyacinth stopped.