/0/76328/coverbig.jpg?v=198f5b1b4d4d73ebc7a4fa8f5f626a22)
The night after Jace Varrin's retreat was colder than any Celia remembered. The wind howled through the camp's broken corridors, rattling loose sheets of metal and tugging at threadbare tents. Fires burned low, casting long, shivering shadows across the faces of those who gathered near them. Fear clung to the air like smoke - heavy, inescapable. Ce