CHAPTER TWELVE
The air in our mountain home is heavy, laced with the scent of pine and a tension that clings to my skin. I sit at our rough-hewn table, tracing the whorls of the wood with my fingertips, trying to ground myself. My parents flank me like sentinels, their faces unreadable in the flickering candlelight. Anne is huddled close to my side, her presence a silent solace amidst the chaos of my thoughts.
My father clears his throat, an ominous rumble that echoes off the stone walls. "Sage," he begins, his voice as steady as the ancient mountains themselves, "we knew this would come. The elders have always seen the potential in you, and they believe Torin is the right match."
"Potential?" The word feels foreign on my tongue, bitter and sharp like the first frost of winter. "You mea
