The silence of the Refined Whispering Glades was a different kind of quiet than
I had ever known. It wasn't the fearful hush of the Blood-Crag stables, where
the only sound was the thud of my own heart hiding from Silas's temper. It
wasn't the ringing vacuum of the Void, where sound went to die. This was a
living, breathing peace—the rustle of silver-white leaves that hummed with a
Hallowed frequency, the bubbling of the Heart-Pool that now ran with liquid
starlight, and the distant, joyful howls of a pack that no longer knew the
meaning of the word "unwanted."
It had been five years since the Throne of Bone collapsed and Erebos was
un-founded. Five years since the "Debt of Blood" was officially redacted from
the ledger of the universe.
I stood on the balcony of our home—a structure woven from living iron-wood and
reinforced with the shimmering Living Silver of Kaelum's legacy. My hair, once
mercury and copper, had settled into a long, flowing river of iridescent pearl
